


Beneath Their Masks: The Golden Rule

by Mazanica



Series: Beneath Their Masks [1]
Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Abuse and neglect, And all types of abuse are in this story okay, Anthro AU, But otherwise it's full of cliches, Cliches like the unpopular kid is rich and the popular characters fall for the unpopular characters, Depression, F/F, Friendship, Future themes of violence, Hinted noncon, Hurt/Comfort/Angst, Like there's no heterosexuals at all in here, M/M, Maybe hints of Mike/Jeremy, Original/Toys, Other, Romance, Suicidal thoughts/themes, This story has a really dark part, Transgender Agender Mangle, Yaoi and Yuri, explicit noncon, highschool
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-06-03 22:03:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 42,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6628384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mazanica/pseuds/Mazanica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Companion Piece, Goldie and Spring's side.</p><p>--</p><p>It's senior year for Goldie and his friends, but things turn out much differently this year. A new class called Advanced Senior Science is being instructed by a new teacher named Mike Schmidt, an eccentric doctor who decides to assign their partners this year. And who else does Goldie get but his unofficial enemy, "Springtrap" Salvage? However, something strange is going on with Springtrap and his friends... and if Goldie has to work all year with this guy, he wants to know what it is. Along the way, he discovers things that he otherwise never would have imagined.</p><p>Spring is just a socially awkward rabbit who doesn't want to be separated from his friends, but everything gets messed up when he's partnered up with "Goldie" Fazbear. Now, trying to juggle school, friends, taking care of his little brother, doctor visits, and keeping his economic status a secret from his classmates, he must add keeping his nosy partner in the dark on top of everything else. That becomes a little hard when he begins to realize this popular guy isn't nearly as bad as he had always thought, and without even realizing it he begins opening up his world to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to Beneath Their Masks: The Golden Rule! If you’re looking at this, well, I can honestly say I’m surprised but pleased. This is a Companion Fic to Behind Their Masks: Guitar Strings, Lyrical Harmony, Pirate’s Life, and Half-Baked!
> 
> These fics are all the same “story” told from the perspective of different couples and, in case you failed to notice, these are all GoldenSpring and Original/Toy, but the pairings are most evident in their own fics. It’ll be a while until any pairings happen, though; first they all need to become friends.
> 
> Warnings: RATED M FOR FUTURE THEMES. Homosexuality, bullying, cliques, transgender issues (DMAB-Agender Mangle), sexual themes, sexual abuse & rape, physical, emotional, mental abuse, parental neglect, severe depression and suicidal themes/attempted suicide, chronic nightmares and night terrors, this story will get very dark at one point.
> 
> Pairings: Goldie/Spring, Bonnie/Toy Bonnie (Blu), Freddy/Toy Freddy (Alfred), Foxy/Funtime Foxy (Mangle), Chica/Toy Chica (Chii)
> 
> Disclaimer: I own none of the characters!
> 
> Only the first chapter is formatted this way. After this chapter, perspectives will switch based on the chapter unless I believe a chapter would benefit from having both perspectives. This is told based on what the character whose perspective (third person) it is being shown from, so for example, even if they’re together, even though the audience knows, say, Spring is filthy stinkin’ rich, Goldie won’t know that so it will never be referenced from Goldie’s perspective until he knows. That is all.

He looked around the crowd worriedly as he made his way through the cheering fans of the band onstage. As much as he enjoyed the band on stage, he did not enjoy concerts; they were too loud, too crowded, too rowdy. There was only one reason he was there; this was Plushie’s favourite band too, and as it was way past Plushie’s bedtime he had promised to get an autograph for the little bunny.  
  
Sure, he was scared as hell being here on his own and he was scared as hell of leaving Plushie alone in that big house with no one else there at night, but he was determined to keep his promise to his beloved little brother. So with that in mind, he made it to the edge of the crowd; the concert was coming to a close and anyone with a gold-pass would soon start heading that way. He wanted to get in and out as soon as possible.  
  
The gold pass had been expensive- especially for something he didn’t want to go to anyway- but really, price was not a problem for him. Despite everything he said or did or wore or drove, he was actually very well off.  
  
And that was an understatement.  
  
When he reached the backstage door there were already a few people in line but he didn’t mind; he wasn’t sure he could have handled being first in line anyway.  
  
The line moved fast, the band members exchanging a few amicable words with fans as they signed whatever objects the fans asked, and soon it was his turn. Ignoring the surprised looks on the band’s faces- he knew he looked a bit strange, missing half of an ear- he simply offered the item Plushie had begged him to get signed; it was their very first album, released nearly five years before. The shocked expressions softened as they saw the case- fond memories, he guessed- and gave a laugh.  
  
“Ah, haven’t seen this in a while,” the singer commented, grinning at Spring. “Longtime fan?” Spring just nodded and gave them the best smile he could muster. “What’s your name?”  
  
“It’s for my brother,” Spring informed them, wondering if it sounded as much like an excuse to them as it did himself. “Just- Plushie, he goes by that…”  
  
“Alright then!” the singer laughed amicably, but still Spring felt unnerved. He watched the singer sign the CD with his standard signature- Plushie; rock on! Jan J- and hand it back. “Have a good one, man, hope you enjoyed the concert.”  
  
“Thanks, you too,” he returned automatically before practically fleeing. He didn’t want to be there longer than necessary, so slipping the CD into his bag he hurried out and to his car. It was almost a quarter past midnight and he had school tomorrow, he needed to get home.  
  
His car wasn’t old but it wasn’t new either- it was just a malibu, he wasn’t even sure what year it was. Cars weren’t his forte, music was. However, it ran smoothly and didn’t complain as he went slightly over the speed limit, gaze flicking to the clock every few minutes. He slowed down when he reached his neighborhood; an upscale neighborhood overlooking a lake.   
  
A scowl crossed his features as he turned up a long driveway, pausing only to get out and manually open the large gate. _I hate this place. It’s so stupid and materialistic_ , he thought bitterly to himself as he got back in his car and drove it through the gate. He got out again to close and lock it back up; he could have done that from the foyer in his house, of course, but why risk anything?   
  
He returned to his car and continued down the driveway. His scowl only deepened as the mansion came into view. Oh how he hated this place- a house his mother bought on a whim and hardly ever used, just dumped her children and a nanny or two in and left to do… whatever it was successful CEOs with millions to spare did. Leaving them all alone in that big house.  
  
A house that wasn’t home.  
  
He pulled up to the front and stopped the car, slipping out. He didn’t bother pulling up to the garage and parking inside; his parents were out of town for the next two weeks, his sister had returned to university campus and no one was going to visit so what was the point? Instead he went up to the dark cherry-wood door and swiftly unlocked it, slipped inside, and locked it again and ran for one of the staircases across the foyer, naturally turning for the left one. On the landing at the top, he paused to glance back down at the linoleum at the bottom and the swirling design underneath the chandelier, placed perfectly between the left and right staircases.  
  
 _I hate this place. I hate it so much._  
  
With a frustrated huff, he turned and hurried down the left hallway towards the smallest bedroom in the house where he knew a small rabbit child was sleeping fitfully in a half-awake half-asleep state, watching the corners of his room that his night-light couldn’t reach.  
  
The monsters like to hide in the shadows, after all, and big brother wasn’t there to chase them away tonight.

* * *

He could feel his phone vibrating wildly in his pocket but he ignored it in favor of cheering with the crowd for the band on stage. It was exhilarating, being among like-minded people for once. Oh, sure- he was a lot like his brother and best friends, but none of them liked this band the way he did. None of them had been so inspired by this particular band; they all loved music but their inspirations were from elsewhere.  
  
Freddy said the band was too rock, Bonnie said he didn’t like the sound of the guitars, Foxy didn’t care for the band’s theme, and Chica was indifferent to them but said they were too negative, too hard on society, for her tastes. To him, though, they were amazing; their songs spoke the cold, hard truth. They didn’t sugarcoat anything and it challenged the norms in society, calling out the hypocrisy of people and raising up the underdogs and saying that everyone could choose their own fate. That the world wasn’t black and white but shades and tints of grey, that no one was alone and no one deserved to be hurt, that no one could force you to be someone you weren’t. That life wasn’t fair to those on the bottom but you could still come out on top.  
  
It was the kind of music someone who was rich, popular, smart and had a loving family- someone like Goldie Fazbear- wasn’t supposed to like.  
  
Yet there he was, cheering among the crowd and not even considering some of his classmates might see him, that his image might be tarnished going to this concert as though he had anything to complain about in life. And he didn’t- he was happy with his life, everything was absolutely perfect. He had reliable friends, loving family, good grades, good looks, already had a full ride to a music college across the county, and he was a talented singer. Yes, life had been very kind to him… but still something about Jan J’s lyrics got his attention, spoke to him, made him realize that something was wrong, if only temporarily.   
  
He was just one person, though; there was nothing he could do about it. Besides, he was happy with his life and at least at his school, most people deserved what they got. Jan J’s words didn’t apply to everyone in the world, after all. Only a select few.  
  
A glance at his watch showed it was past eleven. He needed to get home, so he began making his way through the crowd and to the door, racing across the parking lot to his car. The parking lot was rather empty and he could still hear the music blasting from the stadium; he so wanted to stay but he had school tomorrow. So he slid into the driver’s seat, buckled up, and pulled out of the lot and raced home as fast as was legally possible.  
  
He pulled up to his family home and parked in his spot, frowning as he noticed all of the lights were on. It made him slightly nervous; that meant his parents were waiting up for him. _Did they forget?_ He told them ages ago that he was going somewhere this night. Just in case, he pulled his phone from his pocket and pulled up his text messages, quickly locating the desired text. Then he slid out of the car and went to the front door.  
  
When he tried the knob, it was unlocked. He walked inside and immediately he heard, “Frederick Alexander Fazbear, where the hell have you been?!” He winced and looked up to meet his mother’s eyes. She looked frazzled. _Yes, definitely forgot…_  
  
“I was at a concert, remember?” he asked, frustrated. “I told you I’d be gone tonight like two months ago!”  
  
“No you didn’t,” his mother accused. “I would have remembered that.”  
  
“I texted you the day I bought my ticket!” Goldie protested, unlocking his phone’s screen and showing her the text message dated June 11th. “See?”  
  
His mother’s lips thinned. She was clearly unhappy, but what could she do? He was telling the truth, she had just forgotten, and Goldie knew it. She let out a frustrated sigh. “You should have called and reminded us,” she finally said through gritted teeth, reaching up to massage her temples. “We’ve all been worried sick about you!”  
  
“Sorry, mom,” he apologized as meekly as he could through his irritation. “I’ll remember to next time.”  
  
“Just get to bed, Goldie, you have school in the morning,” she sighed, turning and walking down the hallway back towards the living room. Goldie frowned as she walked away, knowing she was still upset, and hurried up the stairs on his left, going directly to the room he shared with his twin brother.  
  
When he opened the door, he was greeted with, “Hey, Goldie, you were out late.” The golden bear frowned at the brown bear and walked over to his own bed, across the room from Freddy’s.  
  
“I told you guys- all of you, mom and dad included- that tonight was a concert I wanted to go to,” he defended as he dropped down on his bed, shooting an accusatory look at Freddy. “The only reason I didn’t get grounded is ‘cause I had the text to prove it!”  
  
Freddy blinked owlishly at him and frowned in thought. “I don’t remember that,” he admitted and Goldie rolled his eyes. _Obviously._  
  
“It was two months ago, of course you didn’t,” he snorted as he laid down, barely keeping Freddy in his peripheral. “I didn’t even stay for the whole thing, either- it ends at midnight. I actually came home early because of school tomorrow,” he added gloomily.  
  
“How responsible of you,” he heard Freddy chuckle. A glance over showed the bear was looking through his phone. _Probably looking for the text._  
  
“Thank you!” Goldie huffed before turning over so that he was facing the wall. He normally slept on his other side, this was something he did to indicate he didn’t want to talk anymore. “Well, I’m going to sleep.”  
  
“In your clothes?” Freddy sounded disbelieving. Goldie knew he should change but he really didn’t care.  
  
“I’m too tired to change,” he explained simply, closing his eyes. He wasn’t tired, actually, he was upset.  
  
“You’re gonna have marks in your fur in the morning, you know,” Freddy warned. Goldie rolled his eyes.  
  
“Don’t care,” he stated flatly, “sleeping now.”  
  
He heard Freddy sigh, then he heard soft footsteps across the floor before the lights were turned out. He barely opened his eyes to view the darkness as Freddy made his way back to his bed. At least, he mused, his brother knew when to give it up.  
  
“Goodnight, Gold,” Freddy called softly across their room and despite his irritation, Goldie couldn’t help but smile slightly. Even when he was being an ass Freddy still loved him. That was comforting, so he closed his eyes and enjoyed the peaceful silence falling around him.  
  
As he drifted off into a peaceful, if slightly bothered, sleep, unknown to him back in the stadium a lonely, nervous rabbit waited for midnight, one hand clutched around an old CD case in his bag and the other gripping a small bottle in his pocket.

And the night wore on.


	2. Beginning of a Long Year, Goldie

“Goldie, get up!”  
  
“No,” the golden bear moaned, pulling his blanket up over his head. “Too early, call back later.”  
  
“Too early? School’s in less than an hour and you still need to shower!”  
  
“School?” Goldie opened his eyes and blinked groggily at the sunlight streaming in through the open curtains. On the other side of the room Freddy was already dressed, sans shoes, and watching him with a frown and crossed arms. “School? School… Oh!” He sat up, shaking his head. “School starts today.”  
  
“Yes. It does,” Freddy confirmed, watching Goldie climb out of bed. “Your clothes are a mess, brother.”  
  
Goldie waved his hand dismissively and walked over to their closet, grabbing something from his side. “Doesn’t matter, not like I was wearin’ these to school anyway.”  
  
“True. Miss Mattie Mae is workin’ on breakfast right now, she said it’ll be done by seven-ten.”  
  
“Got it, so no more than a twenty minute shower,” Goldie surmised, glancing over at the clock. It was almost 6:50. “I can swing that.”  
  
Freddy snorted in disbelief. “Good luck,” he called as Goldie went to their bathroom, closing the door behind him.  
  
Goldie quickly stripped himself of his wrinkled clothes and hopped into the shower stall, turning the taps and yelping as the freezing water collided with his body. It quickly warmed up, though, and he grabbed his shampoo and made quick work of his fur. It was very half-assed, if he was honest; just enough to be clean and presentable. _I have to get up earlier tomorrow,_ he thought miserably, though that was a given. Once his fur was soapy and scrubbed, he slid back under the water and let it all wash away, watching with a small grin as the suds gathered around the drain.  
  
Humming to himself, he turned the taps off and hopped out of the shower, grabbing a towel. Normally he’d towel dry and then blow-dry his fur, but since he woke up late he didn’t have time. He’d just have to settle for towel-drying, and that was what he did. When he deemed himself dry enough- that is, when his fur was no longer dripping- he pulled his clothes on and ran out of the bathroom. The clock read 7:03. _Thirteen minutes, new record!_  
  
He grabbed his red brush and quickly pulled it through the damp, thicker fur on his head. It snagged on tangles and resisted a lot more than was comfortable but he couldn’t be bothered to care, instead focusing on getting it presentable. The rest of his fur would dry just fine without brushing, but the fur on his head would look like a bird’s nest if he didn’t deal with it _immediately_.  
  
Once that was finished, he raced out the door and towards the staircase at the end of the hall, slowing down only so he wouldn’t trip down the stairs ( _again_ ), and headed towards the breakfast nook off of the kitchen that he and his brother liked using.  
  
Freddy was already sitting there, talking to the cook; a short human woman with the sweetest and most genuine smile possible. Miss Mattie Mae was already setting the table as Goldie slid onto the bench seat next to Freddy.  
  
“Mornin’, Miss Mattie Mae,” he greeted with a smile.  
  
“Good morning, Goldie,” she greeted, setting his plate in front of him. “I heard a ruckus all the way from my room last night, what was goin’ on?”  
  
“Mom and dad forgot Goldie was going to that concert last night,” Freddy informed her, taking a bite of his bacon.  
  
“Well they could’a asked me,” Miss Mattie Mae stated with a frown. “I wrote it down on a calendar specifically so no one would forget.”  
  
“Well at least someone remembered,” Goldie sighed, looking accusingly at Freddy. He picked up his fork and began mixing his scrambled eggs with his grits. “Miss Mattie Mae, do we have any grape jelly?”  
  
“Of course,” the lady laughed and headed back over to the fridge, pulling the desired jelly out. “And we got apple jelly, too, Freddy.”  
  
“Awesome,” the twins chorused, sharing a grin. They were a lot alike, but there were subtle differences. Like Freddy didn’t like his foods touching and Goldie liked mixing his eggs, grits, and sausage together, and Freddy liked apple jelly and hated grape jelly whereas Goldie liked grape jelly and hated apple jelly. Little things like that. “Thanks!”   
  
The human brought the jellies over to them and set them down in front of the appropriate brother, and then she took a seat to eat her own breakfast. That had been something started shortly after she was hired when they were in middle school; she would cook breakfast for them since their parents weren’t awake before school, and one day they had invited her to eat with them. After that they kept inviting her until it just became a thing. She had become as much a part of the family as Goldie and Freddy’s friends had.  
  
“So, seniors this year, huh?” Miss Mattie Mae questioned with a small smile. “Looks like I’ll be out of a job soon.”  
  
The twins laughed a bit and Goldie said, “No way, Miss Mattie Mae, you’re the best cook this side of the Mississippi. And that’s sayin’ something, considering we’re hundreds of miles away from Mississippi. You’ll get a new job in no time flat.”  
  
“If mom and dad don’t keep you themselves,” Freddy added with a chuckle, setting his fork down to pick up his drink. “They love your cooking as much as we do.”  
  
“Y’all boys are too nice,” the lady laughed, shaking her head. “Now finish eatin’ so y’all can actually get to school on time.”  
  
“Yes, ma’am.”

* * *

“I don’t think I’ll like gym this year,” Goldie complained, staring down at the physical fitness sheet in his hand. He was leaning against the lockers next to Chica, waiting for Foxy and Bonnie to join them from the hallway over. Freddy was walking over to them, his own fitness sheet in his hand. “I can’t do half the things on this sheet.”  
  
“That’s what gym class is for, Gold,” Chica informed him with a snort, straightening up and looking over his shoulder at the sheet. “The part I don’t like is the thirty-some odd students in the class.”  
  
“At least there’s two instructors,” Freddy supplied helpfully as he stopped next to them. “Besides, Chica, you’re not even in gym, how’d you know there was thirty-something students in there?”  
  
“Foxy complained my ear off about it,” she answered, waving her hand dismissively. “Something about too many sweating Humans and Animals.”  
  
“Well at least today was just agenda and warm-up day,” Goldie sighed, stuffing his sheet in his bag. “Looks like we’ll be making use of those stupid club memberships this year, huh Freddy?”  
  
“Looks like it,” he agreed.  
  
“So gym will suck this year,” a new voice cut in, getting their attention. Goldie looked over as the red fox and purple rabbit approached. Bonnie was grimacing.  
  
“Something happen?” Chica questioned, raising a brow at their friend.  
  
“I’ll say, I literally ran into one of those- you know, those guys,” Bonnie complained with a frown. “The annoying one.”  
  
“They’re all annoying,” Foxy snorted. “But I know which one you’re talkin’ about.”  
  
The warning bell rang, so the five friends began walking down the hall towards their next class. “Well,” Goldie shrugged, “at least it’s only Mondays and Wednesdays. We have that stupid art class every day.”  
  
“Yeah, why did we get switched into there anyway? It’s gonna be horrible,” Bonnie groaned, pushing the door to the science classroom open. Immediately, across the room, Goldie caught sight of the “unpopular” group and he frowned; gym _and_ science? _Typical_. He followed as Bonnie walked into the room and claimed the nearest desk. Goldie rolled his eyes and slid into the desk behind the rabbit, tempted to flick his ears, but both the rabbit and the fox turned around to look at them before he could do so.  
  
“Relax,” Freddy sighed, rolling his eyes as he took a seat behind Foxy and beside Goldie. “It won’t be so bad.”  
  
“Yeah, I think art’ll be an easy A. But damn, gym- that teacher was rude as hell,” Goldie complained, frowning as he remembered the class they were in before, out in the gymnasium. They had been doing agenda stuff and a "basic" warm-up they’d be required to do every day. He shook his head. “That warm-up is brutal and the teacher didn’t even care that a kid started having an asthma attack? Like geez, poor kid could’ve died.”  
  
“Well, at least his friend was willing to just walk out with him, a good friend to have,” Freddy mentioned and Goldie nodded slightly in agreement, sighing. “I wonder what goes on in this class.”  
  
Goldie glanced around the room and frowned as he caught sight of the lab stations in the back. “Who knows,” he heard Bonnie say from in front of him. “This definitely isn’t chemistry.”  
  
“Looks like chemistry will be part of it, though,” Chica pointed out, drawing the others’ gazes to the lab stations as well. There were beakers, a Bunsen burner, and a few other things laying out on them.  
  
Goldie turned back around to look at his friends as Bonnie said, “Yeah. So who’s gonna be whose partner this year?” The golden bear almost snorted at that; all of them knew damn well he and Freddy were going to partner together like always.  
  
“Whoever you want,” Freddy answered. “It’s not like I’ll be choosin’, ya know.”  
  
Jokingly, Goldie said, “I call dibs on Freddy.” This earned laughs from his friends and brother and he grinned, sweeping his gaze around the room. “But hey, looks like the other people in class are…” He frowned. There were the five people they highly disliked, then there was the person they were indifferent about who highly disliked them, and then three human girls that Goldie and his friends had had the misfortune of getting on the bad side of. “Uh… people none of us get along with,” he finished lamely, looking back at his friends. “Huh.”  
  
Before any of them could say more, an unfamiliar voice said, “Alright, then, settle down class.” The rabbit and fox turned around in their seats to look at the teacher and Goldie could just barely hold back a laugh; green-dyed hair. _Oh that is amazing_. “I am Doctor Mike Schmidt and this year I am your science teacher.” _This guy is a doctor? Oh my god, this is amazing_. “This year,” Dr. Schmidt continued, “things will be different.”  
  
And suddenly Goldie had a horrible feeling. He didn't feel very amused anymore. _What are you doing, doctor…_  
  
“In the past I know you have always been allowed to choose your own partners, but in my experience I’ve found there is a lot less messing around and procrastination when partners are assigned.”  
  
 _Oh. Oh. Damn, this isn’t cool._  
  
“So this year, I will be assigning your partners.”  
  
 _Oh no duh, doc! You wouldn’t say that just to say, “but I’ll still let you choose your own partners!”_  
  
“I have already assigned everyone their partners and you cannot switch out partners. I have partnered everyone up for specific reasons, and this is the partner you will have all year long. You will sit beside each other in the classroom, when we are in the lab you will work together at your station, and you will be expected to work outside of the classroom as well.”   
  
_This sounds as good as marrying a fucking_ textbook _. Where divorce is_ illegal _._  
  
“Basically, your lab partner in this class will be the person every assignment in this class, minus your exams, will be done with. Whether you call each other or meet up in person is up to you.”  
  
 _Wonder if we can fake it_ , he thought miserably, frowning and looking at Freddy. Freddy’s slight frown was the only thing that gave away his own displeasure about this.  
  
There were a few moments of silence as Dr. Schmidt picked his clipboard up and made a few notes. “Alright. Gather your stuff, everyone. And stand back near the lab stations. You can choose your own seats, but you must be sitting next to your partner.”  
  
 _Well at least we can choose our own seats_ , he said silently as he followed his brother towards the lab stations. Goldie crossed his arms and watched as the doctor paced, staring at his clipboard. Then Dr. Schmidt stopped and turned to look at them.  
  
“Alright now,” he hummed, a large smile on his face. “First, Bonito Rodriguez and Bonnie Henderson.”  
  
 _So that’s how this is gonna go. Lemme guess- Freddy and Fischbach, Chica and Kain, Foxy and Blanc, and what- me and Salvage?_  
  
He watched as both rabbits took a seat, the shorter blue rabbit sitting in the seat Bonnie had occupied just a few minutes before and Bonnie taking the seat Foxy had occupied. He instantly knew what Bonnie was thinking; it wasn’t the first time they pulled this stunt. Nothing would separate them in a classroom, after all.   
  
“Marion Marshal and Malesha Jacks.” Goldie was almost relieved he wasn’t with either of those two. They were both very silent and very, er… creepy. And, well, frankly speaking both of them hated his and his friends’ guts. “Freddy Fazbear and Alfred Fischbach.  
  
 _Called_ _it_. He watched his brother and the other brown bear walk over to the seats two rows behind Bonnie and Rodriguez. He knew exactly why Freddy left that gap.  
  
“Vivien Blanc and Drew Jones.” _Wait- Blanc’s first name is Vivien? How did I not know that? Either way, called it!_ He watched the foxes, both growling slightly, walk over and take the desks next to the two empty seats between the bears and rabbits. This time Foxy sat on the right, next to where he himself would sit. _At least I’m not the only one that caught on_. “Leah Stuart and Jackie James.”   
  
Goldie didn’t pay the two humans any mind, instead glancing over at the remaining potential partners. Chica, Kain, or “Springtrap” Salvage. If he was lucky-  
  
“Frederick Fazbear and Spring Salvage.” _Wait, Spring’s his real name? Seriously? Who names their kid that?_ Brushing it off, Goldie strode over to the empty desk between Freddy and Bonnie, dropping down into it without any hesitance. He barely glanced up at the golden rabbit as he, much more uneasily, slid into his own seat. By the time Dr. Schmidt called out, “Francisca Sanchez and Charlotte Kain,” both chickens were already taking their seats.   
  
From the corner of his eye, Goldie noticed Rodriguez turn around in his seat, looking at Salvage. A silent conversation seemed to pass between them before Dr. Schmidt told the rabbit to turn around, and the rabbit, with a roll of his eyes, obeyed, but that short close-up glimpse of the rabbit made Goldie notice something for the first time ever. _Is he wearing mascara? Weird._  
  
“Now, I know all of you know each other-” Goldie let out a snort and covered his mouth; he hadn’t meant to let that slip, but he literally knew _nothing_ about his partner and he didn’t _want_ to. Thankfully, Dr. Schmidt went on as though he hadn’t heard. “-but this is my first year at this school and I don’t know any of you.” _Obviously, or else you’d have known to not put us with the people you did._ “So, I want all of you to fill out this questionnaire about your partner, which you will then read aloud to the class.”  
  
 _Questionnaire_. Goldie was sure he hadn’t filled one of those out since middle school- and he and Freddy had cheated, filling them out about each other. Bonnie handed the questionnaire sheets back to him and he turned around to hand one to Freddy. As he did so, he noticed Freddy’s eyes flick over towards their partners, so he followed the gaze. The golden rabbit looked really freaked out and the brown bear… well… Goldie couldn’t read him, but he was frowning and as he took the sheet from Salvage, his hand lightly brushed over the rabbit’s. This seemed to soothe the rabbit somewhat as he gave a small smile before turning around. It was a strange interaction, to say the least. Goldie shrugged at Freddy and turned around himself, looking down at the questionnaire.  
  
 _My New Lab Partner!_  
  
 _Name:_  
 _Nickname(s):_  
 _DOB:_  
 _Places You’ve Lived:_  
 _Future Plans:_  
 _Interests/Hobbies:_  
 _Favourite Colour:_  
 _Favourite Band/Musician:_  
 _Phone #_  
 _Cell:_  
 _Landline:_  
  
It was standard. He went to fill in the Name line when he realized he wasn’t actually sure if Spring _was_ the rabbit’s actual name or just the name his school forms requested. He frowned and glanced at Salvage, who was currently writing in _Frederick Fazbear_. Something was strange about that. He couldn’t say what was strange- oh wait, yeah he could. If he wasn’t careful, his arm would brush Salvage’s; he was writing with his left hand.  
  
With a frown, Goldie asked, “Is Spring your real name or somethin’?” The rabbit didn’t respond verbally, just nodded his head. He almost made a comment but his eyes went back to the rabbit’s arm. It was _way_ too close for comfort. “You’re left-handed.”  
  
“Thank you for noticing after twelve years of being in the same classes,” the rabbit deadpanned, but Goldie’s ears twitched as he caught a small, nervous waver in his voice. The rabbit was clearly wary of him. “I don’t have any nicknames,” Salvage directed, subtly shifting away from Goldie. The bear wasn’t even sure the rabbit was aware that he was doing it. _That's fine with me._  
  
“Just Goldie,” Goldie informed him, finally writing the rabbit’s name down and drawing a slash through Nickname(s), though he was tempted to write down _Springtrap_. “Which, by the way, is reserved for friends,” he added almost thoughtlessly.  
  
He glanced over as the rabbit snorted, writing the information down. “As if I’d even call you by name, Fazbear,” the rabbit muttered. Goldie had a feeling he wasn’t actually meant to hear it. _Whatever_. “November second, ‘98.”   
  
Goldie noted that down. “August twenty-fifth, '98.” Not too long away now. He was almost eighteen. _Wow I’m getting old_. “Lived my entire life here.” _Unfortunately_.  
  
“Same,” the rabbit said simply and Goldie scrawled out _Durmont_ on that line. “I’m going to university in New York.” The rabbit didn’t give any details about what he would be studying. Goldie didn’t ask.  
  
“California. And music is my interests and hobbies.” Of course he had more but the rabbit didn’t need to know that. They were science partners, not friends.  
  
“Simple,” he heard the rabbit mutter. He was pretty sure that it was an insult, albeit a weak one, so he rolled his eyes. “Drawing and music.” _I swear if he’s in art with me I’ll jump out a window_. “And my favourite colour is green.”  
  
“Red. Favourite band is-” he stumbled a bit; he couldn’t tell the truth. “-is Jackie Johnson.” The rabbit gave him a strange look, obviously having caught his stutter, but didn’t ask, instead turning his gaze back to his paper as he wrote the response down.  
  
“Jan J,” the rabbit said, and Goldie almost jumped in surprise, at first thinking it was an accusation. Then he realized that the rabbit had been answering the question. _His favourite musician is Jan J, too?_ “And can we please not exchange numbers?”  
  
“I concur,” Goldie agreed automatically, but then a hand entered his vision and tapped on his desk. He looked up at Dr. Schmidt.  
  
“You’ll find that makes it very difficult, boys,” Dr. Schmidt warned them, leaning over Goldie's desk. “You’ll need that for arranging meet-ups outside of class.”  
  
Goldie and Salvage looked at each other, scowling. Goldie then reached over and grabbed the paper off of Salvage’s desk, Salvage automatically moving his arm when Goldie reached over. The rabbit followed suit with his own and they scrawled their numbers out, neither happy at all about it.  
  
As he slid the sheet back, Goldie said, “Don’t call unless it’s for school.”  
  
“Right back at’cha,” he barely caught the rabbit’s mumble as he handed the sheet back over, leaning boredly on his hand. Goldie eyed him, watching as his ears twitched and he frowned, as though he had just remembered something. “And I can’t meet before five on school days.”  
  
He offered no more information and Goldie didn’t ask. He didn't care. “Fine.” Silence fell between them. Goldie looked around, noticing Chica wasn’t even speaking to her partner. Clearly she was filling out her own paper. _Why didn’t I think of that?_ Beside him, Foxy and Blanc were arguing about… nicknames? _Weird_. Behind him, he could hear Fischbach’s short, quiet answers. _Rude_. And in front of him? Well, the blue and purple rabbits seemed to have already finished and Rodriguez was facing the door, back tense and ears flat. Goldie couldn’t see Bonnie’s expression, but he could tell that his friend was watching his partner. _Wonder what happened._  
  
Beside Goldie, Salvage laid his head down and fiddled with his pencil. Neither said a word. After all, there was nothing to be said.  
  
 _This year’s gonna suck._

* * *

 _My New Lab Partner!_  
  
 _Name_ : Spring Salvage  
 _Nickname(s_ ): -  
 _DOB_ : November 2, 98  
 _Places You’ve Lived_ : Durmont  
 _Future Plans_ : Uni in New York  
 _Interests/Hobbies_ : Drawing, Music  
 _Favourite Colour_ : Red  
 _Favourite Band/Musician_ : Jan J  
 _Phone #_  
   _Cell_ : (223) 346-8798  
     _Landline_ : -


	3. Beginning of a Long Year, Spring

“Hey, sleepy bunny… you awake, kiddo?”  
  
“Mm… five more minutes…”  
  
“No can do, it’s your first day of first grade, little man,” Spring chuckled tiredly, kneeling down next to his brother’s bed. It was only five in the morning and no child should have to wake up this early, but Plushie was attending an academy with one of his friends over an hour away and his ride would be there at six-twenty. Spring was nervous about him attending school so far away but the schools here just weren’t equipped to deal with a child like Plushie. That academy, though, was specially trained to deal with... troubles. “You don’t wanna keep Mrs. Marks and Tommy waiting, do you?”  
  
The small gold kit whined softly and opened his eyes, looking up at Spring. “No,” he admitted sleepily. Then he blinked and squinted his eyes. “Springy, why d’you gots your phone out…?”  
  
Spring laughed softly. “I wanted to catch your reaction,” he informed the little rabbit, standing up again. “Come on, out of bed and over to your dresser, there’s a special surprise waiting for you in your sock drawer.”  
  
Plushie looked confused but complied, slipping out from under his blanket and lowering himself onto the carpeted floor below. Spring kept the camera trained on him as he padded over to the dresser and pulled open the bottom drawer. Immediately an excited, happy shriek filled the room as his brother grabbed the object and held it up; the signed Jan J album.  
  
“You got it!” he squealed, bouncing up and down. Spring smiled tiredly; sometimes he wished Plushie hadn’t overheard him listening to them. No child his age should be listening to Jan J, but it seemed to make Plushie happier despite all of the nightmares so he just accepted it and got the child what he wanted when it came to the band. Thankfully, despite the content of their songs, Jan J’s band didn’t actually use... mature language unfit for little ears. “You got it! Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!”  
  
Spring laughed as he watched the bunny kit hop around, hugging the old CD case- it was almost as old as he was, Spring realized suddenly- and smiling oh so brightly. Honestly he had never seen the child happier... except maybe the day when Spring told him he could become a dancer if he really wanted to and enrolled him in a local dance school for young children that met on weekends. Nothing could compare to the kit’s joy that day.  
  
Suddenly, though, the little bunny changed direction and set the CD case down on his bed, whirling around and leaping at Spring. Spring let out a small yelp as he let go of the phone- and, thus, the record button- and caught the small rabbit in his arms.  
  
“Woah there!” he laughed, hoisting him up into the air. “You’re getting too big for this~” It was a tease, as far as Spring was concerned Plushie would never be too big to pick up. “Now come on, let’s get you bathed and get some breakfast.”  
  
“Okay!” Plushie giggled, hugging his arms around his older brother’s neck. Spring carried him to the bathroom across the hall and set him down on the floor, letting the child undress himself while he ran the water. He put the plug in place once he determined the water was warm enough but not too hot for a child Plushie’s age, and then he picked Plushie up and set him in the water.  
  
Plushie giggled as he plopped down in the shallow water, playing a bit as the tub slowly filled up. Spring grabbed the soaps and shampoos he and Plushie both used for their fur and knelt down beside the tub, still clad in his pajamas: an old, baggy T-shirt made for someone with more meat on their bones and baggy plaid pants that were sinfully comfortable. He knew he’d get soaked- Plushie loved playing in the bath, after all- but he didn’t mind. He was just happy that his brother was so happy.  
  
He poured some bubble-bath stuff into the water once it was over Plushie’s legs and instantly the water started turning bubbly. Plushie immediately began playing with the bubbles and laughed merrily while Spring grabbed a bath spongey and poured the soap-shampoo, made specifically for thick fur like theirs, over it and, as his little brother played in the water, began washing the little child.  
  
Spring knew that soon Plushie would be old enough to do this himself. Technically he was old enough to do this himself already. However, Spring didn’t mind waiting for Plushie to be ready for that day, as long as it didn’t get out of control. He had to draw a line somewhere. No, he figured Plushie would start desiring more independence sometime within the next and by the time he was eight he would be doing this completely on his own, maybe with just a little help with filling the tub.  
  
Then again, Plushie had never exactly been a… normal child. Spring wished he could blame the lack of parents’ presence, but just like Spring had had his biological father there for him Plushie had big brother there for him, playing the part as well as a seventeen year old could. Then again, a brother’s love wasn’t quite the same as a father’s love.  
  
Who would go with Plushie to parent day events? Spring was his brother, the only way he could go was if he became his legal guardian… and what about mother-son events? Father-son events? Spring definitely couldn’t do that. He had barely been able to arrange it with the schools to allow him to be the primary emergency contact. _That_ had taken him swinging his money around to do- to get the school to let him check himself out when his brother needed him, to get them to grant him an exception to the no-cellphones-on-in-class rule, to just _be there_ for his brother.  
  
He never did like people who swung their money around, but if being a hypocrite was what it took to be there for Plushie like his own biological father had somewhat been then he would do it in a heartbeat. His brother meant the world to him and that was what was important. He’d do anything to make sure his brother was safe and happy, despite everything that was wrong with both of them.  
  
He had already failed him once. He wasn’t going to do it again.

* * *

“Hey, Spring, can I see your math sheet real quick?”  
  
“Huh? Blu, we worked on these together, we have the exact same answers already.”  
  
“I know, but I want to see something!”  
  
Spring raised a brow at his friend but opened his bag from beside his desk and pulled his notebook out, slipping the desired worksheet out and handing it over to his blue friend. Blu gave him a bright, typical Blu smile before looking at the summer worksheet and studying it intensely. Spring turned around in his seat to look at Alfred and Mangle, looking perplexed. His bear friend just shrugged while the fox snickered.  
  
“Chii was right,” Blu decided after a moment, handing the golden rabbit his worksheet back. “You do write like a girl.”  
  
The friends blinked owlishly before they began laughing- real laughs of perplexity and amusement, but quiet enough to not disturb their classmates walking in the door. “What?” Spring laughed, glancing down at his worksheet. His writing was slanted at a strange angle- strange compared to his friends’ anyway- but he didn’t really understand what Blu meant. Handwriting was handwriting, it couldn’t exactly be gendered. “C’mon, Blu, you should know better than to stereotype genders. I mean just look at you and me,” he added teasingly, grinning at his friend.  
  
Chii tittered and lightly nudged Blu. “He has a point. How many times have you been mistaken for a girl since, what, middle school?”  
  
“Aw shucks, guys, I know I’m fabulous but ya don’t gotta rub it in~” Blu sang with a grin of his own, earning laughs from the rest of his friends yet again.

By this time Spring was perfectly aware of how divided they were from the rest of the school so he didn’t even bother to glance at the person sitting on the other side of Blu, knowing that they were too far drawn into their own world now. They could never be a part of the school’s social network; they had already separated themselves too far. It didn’t matter anyway- no one even glanced at them anymor, even when they were laughing loudly enough to bother someone. Which was rarely.

“Anyway,” Blu continued speaking, glancing up at the whiteboard. “Advanced senior science, yeah? What does that even mean?”  
  
“I think it’s lab-based,” Mangle offered, flicking their tail as they stared thoughtfully at the board. “I glanced through the textbook on the way in, there’s a lot of different sciences in it. I saw physics, biology, and chemistry in my little… um, glance.”  
  
“You saw a lot of stuff for it being a glance,” Spring snorted, slipping his math worksheet back into its place. He glanced back up towards the white fox, quirking a brow. “When’d you even do that? Weren’t you right behind us in the door?”  
  
“It’s called I paused, Springy,” Mangle deadpanned, causing them all to laugh again.  
  
“Well duh, I was just-”  
  
“Alright then, settle down class,” a new, unfamiliar voice called in a slight accent, cutting Spring off mid-sentence. Spring turned to look at the front of the classroom, blinking in surprise at what he saw.  
  
It was a tall, wiry man with kind blue eyes and dyed-green hair. Spring could just barely see the natural brown near the roots. If the rabbit had to guess he couldn’t be more than thirty, which was definitely different from what he was used to with science teachers.  
  
Once the room was quiet, the man continued speaking. “I am Doctor Mike Schmidt and this year I am your science teacher,” he informed them, eyes scanning over the class. Spring glanced around and frowned as he noticed who all was in this class with them.  
  
There were three human girls he had never seen before- okay, granted Spring didn’t pay enough attention and probably had seen them before- and another dark-skinned man he recognized as the school outcast, Marion. He was the one person no one messed with and he only associated with people on the same rung of the social ladder as himself... that is, Spring and his friends. He often ended up being Alfred’s partner when they were given partner projects rather than group projects.  
  
That wasn’t so bad. The thing he didn’t like was the sight of the Fazbear brothers and their own tight yet open group of friends, sitting not too far away- considering there were only enough desks for the amount of people in class plus two, there had been no choice but to sit so close.  
  
Spring didn’t know why that group disliked him and his friends, but as soon as they noticed the first roll of their eyes at simply seeing them, the first time they noticed the way that group would make a face just passing by, they had decided they’d return the dislike tenfold… which only increased the Fazbear gang’s dislike of them.  
  
Therefore, Spring turned his gaze away with a little huff, looking at Blu in frustration. Blu, having noted the same thing as him, simply shrugged as if to say _nothing we can do._  
  
“This year,” Doctor Schmidt was saying, “things will be different. In the past I know you have always been allowed to choose your own partners, but in my experience I’ve found there is a lot less messing around and procrastination when partners are assigned.” Spring’s eyes widened in horror. _Oh no._  
  
“So this year, I will be assigning your partners.”  
  
_Oh no. No no no no no no no…_  
  
Blu turned to him with a worried expression and he gave a wary smile to him, trying to say it was alright even though inside he felt like he was about to die. _Assigned partners_. What were the chances that he’d get one of his friends? Four out of thirteen? Was that how probability worked? He suddenly couldn’t remember. Was he supposed to multiply something? _One out of thirteen, one out of thirteen, one… no... no- yes?_  
  
A hand on his shoulder made him jump and he looked over his shoulder at Alfred to see him frowning in concern, his brows drawn together. Spring realized he must have looked pretty freaked out- was he panicking? He wasn’t sure. Was Dr. Schmidt still talking? Yes, yes he was. He forced a smile again and turned to look at the teacher, tuning back into reality. Maybe it wouldn’t end horribly?  
  
“... cannot switch out partners. I have partnered everyone up for specific reasons, and this is the partner you will have all year long. You will sit beside each other in the classroom, when we are in the lab you will work together at your station, and you will be expected to work outside of the classroom as well.”  
  
This was sounding horrible, after all.  
  
“Basically, your lab partner in this class will be the person every assignment in this class, minus your exams, will be done with. Whether you call each other or meet up in person is up to you.”  
  
_Oh I so am not giving my address to some stranger_ , Spring thought to himself, lightly clutching his right wrist. He could just imagine _that_ reaction; Lakeview Road? They wouldn’t even _need_ to see his house to know the truth, and then nothing would ever be the same again.  
  
“Alright. Gather your stuff, everyone,” Dr. Schmidt commanded, picking up a clipboard. “And stand back near the lab stations. You can choose your own seats, but you must be sitting next to your partner.”  
  
Numbly, Spring picked his bag up and followed his friends to the back. There was a discontented murmuring among the other students but no one dared speak back to the eccentric-looking doctor. Spring found himself standing between the wall and Alfred with Blu right in front of him, fidgeting with his bag. They all watched Dr. Schmidt as he paced at the front of the classroom.  
  
“Alright now,” he started, evidently satisfied with their obedience. “First, Bonito Rodriguez and Bonnie Henderson.”  
  
Spring just barely heard both of the other rabbits’ aggravated sighs and watched his friend shoot a look at the purple rabbit, who returned it fully. However, neither made any protests as they went forward and claimed the two seats closest to the door. There went Spring’s normal partner, trapped between Henderson and a wall.  
  
“Marion Marshal and Malesha Jacks.”  
  
Neither human said anything, both naturally taking the two of the four seats in the back row, against the wall with the windows. Spring didn’t like the way this was going.  
  
“Freddy Fazbear and Alfred Fischbach.”  
  
Alfred and Spring looked at each other, the former wearing a look of indifference and the latter wearing an expression of worry. However, Alfred lightly put his hand on Spring’s shoulder as a sign of comfort before making his way to the pair of desks Fazbear had chosen, making no complaints. Two rows back from Blu and Henderson. Spring had a bad feeling he knew why Fazbear had left that gap, but he resisted the instinct to glance nervously over towards the brown bear’s twin.  
  
“Vivien Blanc and Drew Jones.”  
  
Mangle’s hiss was a little more audible than Blu’s sigh had been, but it was nothing compared to Jones’ growl. The two shot each other glares as they chose the desks in the second row, next to that empty pair between Blu and Alfred. That was enough to pretty much confirm Spring’s suspicion.  
  
“Leah Stuart and Jackie James.”  
  
The two human girls high-fived before hurrying over to the front seats next the the window. _At least they’re with a friend._  
  
“Frederick Fazbear and Spring Salvage.”  
  
_Oh god no_. He looked desperately at Chii who was fidgeting nervously with her hands, watching him worriedly. Frederick “Goldie” Fazbear was literally the _last_ person Spring wanted to be with- he was the epitome of a highschool socialite who pretty much had everything to his name except sports. He was everything Spring wasn’t- he was everything Spring hated. And Spring was everything Goldie Fazbear hated.  
  
However, so as not to make a scene, he simply accepted it and approached the pair of desks that had, unsurprisingly, been “reserved” for Fazbear and his partner- Spring. The only thing he could be grateful for was that he’d be in front of Alfred and behind Blu. He couldn’t help but feel a little resentful, though, that Fazbear’s gang would all technically be together while he, Alfred, and Blu were cut off from Mangle and Chii.  
  
_Damn assertive popular people._  
  
“Francisca Sanchez and Charlotte Kain,” he finished, but both chickens had already moved to the remaining front-row desks, leaving two middle-row desks by the window empty. Spring wondered if Dr. Schmidt only had those desks there for symmetry reasons and then silently scolded himself for his miniature tangent.  
  
Blu turned around in his seat to look at Spring, conveying with just his eyes and ears what he was thinking. _Are you okay?_ That was what that expression was asking. Spring forced a smile but his ears were flat. _I’m trying._  
  
“Mr. Rodriguez, turn around please,” Dr. Schmidt ordered and Blu frowned and rolled his eyes but obeyed, turning to face the front again. Spring could just barely see him nervously messing with his pencil- when had he gotten that out? Spring wasn’t sure. “Now, I know all of you know each other-” Spring heard a derisive snort from next to him, “-but this is my first year at this school and I don’t know any of you.” _Then how did you know Blu was Rodriguez and not Henderson?_ “So, I want all of you to fill out this questionnaire about your partner, which you will then read aloud to the class.” _Fuck you, Doctor. Fuck you._  
  
Dr. Schmidt handed out the worksheets to the people in the first row who then proceeded to take one and pass it back. Spring took that moment as an excuse to turn around, giving Alfred a desperate pleading expression of _please help me I don’t know what to do._  
  
But there was nothing Alfred could do and Spring could see on his face that he hated this as much as he himself did. As the bear took the worksheet, he let his hand linger- just a moment- on top of Spring’s as a way to try and comfort him, offer him some silent support as he usually did. Spring didn’t know if the Fazbear brothers were watching their interaction- probably not but the golden bear was still turned around as well- but he didn’t dwell on it. He gave Alfred a small, grateful smile before turning back around to face forward, then he finally looked at the questionnaire.  
  
It was a standard get-to-know-your-classmate worksheet. Had he been with one of his friends he could have answered every single question on the paper, but he wasn’t with one of his friends and he only knew the answer to three of the questions already- they were common knowledge around school, after all.  
  
_My New Lab Partner!_  
  
_Name:_  
_Nickname(s):_  
_DOB:_  
_Places You’ve Lived:_  
_Future Plans:_  
_Interests/Hobbies:_  
_Favourite Colour:_  
_Favourite Band/Musician:_  
_Phone #_  
_Cell:_  
_Landline:_  
  
He frowned as he scanned the short questionnaire. He then filled in the name but left the rest blank.  
  
Spring jumped as, begrudgingly, the bear beside him asked, “Is Spring your real name or somethin’?” He simply nodded, barely glancing at the bear and waiting for the usual snark his name earned him. However, Fazbear was leaning against his arm, frowning and watching Spring’s hand. Spring’s ears twitched and he frowned back, though the golden bear wasn’t watching his face and wouldn’t catch his displeasure. “You’re left-handed.”  
  
“Thank you for noticing after twelve years of being in the same classes,” he deadpanned, though a nervous waver was present in his voice. He didn’t like this at all. He turned his attention back to the questionnaire, looking for a distraction. “I don’t have any nicknames.”  
  
“Just Goldie. Which, by the way, is reserved for friends.”  
  
Spring snorted and turned to write the name down. “As if I’d even call you by name, Fazbear,” he muttered, more to himself than his partner. “November second, ‘98.”  
  
“August twenty-fifth, ‘98.” That was just two weeks away. Not that it mattered. “Lived my entire life here.”  
  
“Same.” That wasn’t true, of course- he had been born in Atlanta, but he had been barely two when they moved so he had no real memories of Georgia. “I’m going to university in New York.”  
  
“California,” was all Fazbear said but that was one of the things Spring already knew. Fazbear had made sure everyone knew he, his brother, and their friend Henderson had already been accepted- under conditions of their grades, of course- to a prestigious music academy in California. “And music is my interests and hobbies.”  
  
“Simple,” Spring muttered, noting down the obvious answer. He knew there must have been more but he didn’t like the bear and the bear didn’t like him so he didn’t care. “Drawing and music.” And cooking, but he didn’t say that. “And my favourite colour is green.”  
  
“Red. Favourite band is- is Jackie Johnson.” There was a stutter and Spring gave him a glance, raising a brow, but he chose not to question it. Instead he noted it down.  
  
“Jan J,” he answered, not looking at the bear. “And can we please not exchange numbers?”  
  
“I concur.”  
  
“You’ll find that makes it very difficult, boys,” Dr. Schmidt warned them, leaning over Fazbear’s desk. “You’ll need that for arranging meet-ups outside of class.”  
  
Spring scowled and Fazbear mirrored it, neither of them happy about this, but the bear grabbed Spring’s paper and scrawled out a number on it. Spring sighed and did the same, frowning sharply as he did so.  
  
When Fazbear slid the paper back over, he promptly said, “Don’t call unless it’s for school.”  
  
“Right back at’cha,” Spring mumbled, handing the paper back over boredly. His ears twitched suddenly, frowning as his brother crossed his mind. Fazbear didn’t know his habits and he sure as hell didn’t know about his family situation. He wasn’t about to explain anything, either, so he simply added, “And I can’t meet before five on school days.”  
  
“Fine,” Fazbear shrugged boredly and they both fell into silence. Spring tuned in to the conversations around him; the rabbits in front of him had a tense silence between them, Blu refusing to look at the purple rabbit and Henderson giving the blue bunny strange looks. He wondered what he missed- what had happened? Behind him, Alfred was giving short answers- to Freddy Fazbear it probably seemed rude but Spring knew it was Alfred just being Alfred- and Fazbear was being as civil as possible. To his left, the foxes were arguing- from the sounds of it, Jones had called them "mangey" or something. He couldn’t pick up on the two chickens in front of the foxes, as they were both silent. He had a feeling they were just filling out their own papers and were going to exchange. _Smart._  
  
The only sound now came from the arguing foxes and the chatting friends across the room.  
  
Spring sighed and laid his head down on top of his paper, lightly tapping his pencil against his arm. All he could do now was wait.  
  
_This is gonna be a long year…_

* * *

My New Lab Partner!  
  
_Name_ : Frederick Fazbear  
_Nickname(s)_ : Goldie  
_DOB_ : 8/25/1998  
_Places You’ve Lived_ : Born here  
_Future Plans_ : California  
_Interests/Hobbies_ : Music  
_Favourite Colour_ : Red  
_Favourite Band/Musician_ : Jackie Johnson  
_Phone #_  
     _Cell_ : (223) 346-7665  
_Landline_ : -  



	4. Suspicions, Goldie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the long wait! This story is really super high maintenance...

“Thank you for your cooperation, class. Remember, these review packets need to be done by class Wednesday. You can use the next five minutes to talk amongst yourselves but I ask you don’t leave your desks, please.”

Goldie didn’t hesitate to turn around and look at Freddy, pointedly ignoring the rabbit sitting next to himself and the bear sitting next to his brother. “Think we can get these done by tonight?” he asked his brother, raising a brow.

“You tell me,” Freddy chuckled as he lazily flipped through the review packet. “It’s not like I’ll be putting it off like a certain rabbit we know and love.” When this statement garnered no reaction from Bonnie, Goldie frowned and looked at the rabbit in question. He was just  _ staring  _ at Rodriguez. Goldie’s frown deepened and his ears twitched.  _ What is he doing? _

“He does know he looks like a creep, right?” Goldie questioned, looking back at Freddy. Freddy wore a frown now, clearly displeased by… well,  _ something _ . Goldie didn’t like being ignored. “Freddy?”

“I’m trying to figure something out,” Freddy admitted with a shrug of his own. Goldie knew that he was being dismissed. 

Basically;  _ I’m concentrating on something else right now so please shut up, but I’m too polite and love you too much to say it outright and instead I hope you pick up on the subtext. _ Yeah. Real nice. So polite.

“I beg to differ! Mangle barely stays on tempo!”

Goldie’s ears twitched and now it was his turn to frown.  _ Tempo? Like music? _ He glanced over at the golden rabbit next to him, who was smiling in amusement.

“Mangle  _ marks _ the tempo, Blu,” Salvage actually  _ giggled _ , his ear suddenly drooping down to block his expression from view. Goldie exchanged a strange look with Freddy. “They can’t be  _ off _ tempo when they  _ make _ the tempo.”

“I disagree,” Fischbach suddenly spoke up. Goldie hadn’t even realized he was part of the conversation in the first place, but the rabbits both seemed happy that he spoke.

“Oh shush, Mr. Vocals,” the rabbit snorted, looking back towards Fischbach as Rodriguez giggled. “If I remember right  _ you  _ were the one off tempo this morning.”

“Nope,” Fischbach immediately replied and Goldie noticed he was speaking as shortly to his own friends as he had been to Freddy. Maybe that was how he  _ always _ spoke.  _ Weird. _ “You.”

“Me?” Goldie looked at Freddy in confusion before refocusing on the golden rabbit, whose countenance suddenly changed. He sat up straighter and lifted his head, and though Goldie couldn’t see his expression he could just imagine a haughty look had taken over. However, his voice was mocking as he said, “I’ll have you know, good sirs, I am  _ not _ at fault here.  _ Obviously _ the song was too slow to begin with.”

That  _ might  _ have been funny if it hadn’t been said by Springtrap Salvage. However, the golden rabbit’s friends obviously  _ were _ amused by it… probably because they knew something that Goldie didn’t. It took the blue rabbit all of two seconds to break down into a fit of laughter, and Fischbach lifted a hand to his forehead and shook his head as if exasperated, but the grin he wore in place of his normal indifference spoke otherwise. 

“Oh my gods, Spring,  _ really _ ?” Rodriguez giggled almost hysterically to the golden rabbit, leaning on his desk.

The rabbit relaxed his position again and dropped the mock-haughty air. “I  _ am _ really sorry about that, by the way.” His voice became softer. Had Goldie not been right beside him, he probably would have missed it. He doubted Chica or Foxy could hear it, but from the sound of their own conversation they weren’t even listening. “I was out late and, you know... Last night wasn’t very… you know…”

“We know,” the blue rabbit assured as the bell rang. Goldie was on his feet immediately, looking back at his frowning brother. “And then you get up at unholy o’clock.”

“Hypocrite,” Fischbach put in just as Freddy stood up.

Goldie turned to Bonnie and shrugged before he began walking towards the door. “I’ll have you know that I am a  _ proud _ hypocrite, thank you very much.”

The voices were drowned out by the sound of talking and footsteps in the hallway. “Thank god it’s only one class,” he snorted, glancing at Foxy who nodded in agreement. None of them spoke again until they made it to the cafeteria, taking their seat at the “popular” table with their other school friends, pulling out their lunches.

Goldie, ignoring the presence of their school “friends” for the moment, turned to his best friends and declared, “That was  _ really _ weird.” Of course, he wasn't actually referring to the questionnaire or even his partner, specifically. He was referring to the conversation they overheard. However, neither Foxy nor Chica would have realized that.  


“Weird?” Chica raised a brow at him, obviously asking for elaboration, but Foxy jumped into the conversation.

“You didn’t even talk to your partner,” he huffed with a frown. “It was  _ really _ weird. Somethin’s off about Blanc. He, she, it, whatever is  _ really _ weird.”

“Maybe there’s a reason,” Freddy spoke up. Goldie turned to look at the bear on his left, frowning slightly.  _ Ever the neutral one, huh, Freddy? _

“What do you mean?” Bonnie asked, but something in his voice got Goldie’s attention. Goldie glanced at Bonnie, seeing a frown that matched Freddy’s; thoughtful, suspicious, and… something else that Goldie couldn’t quite identify.

“It’s nothing,” Freddy finally answered, his tone suggesting that it wasn’t anywhere close to  _ nothing _ but unwilling to explain himself. 

Goldie sighed and turned to Foxy and Chica, neither of whom seemed happy with the topic. They were frowning sharply, critically; clearly their opinions about Springtrap and friends remained unchanged. Goldie was right there with them.  _ Don’t get why Freddy and Bonnie seem so weird about them right now. _

“They’re complaining about getting partnered with us,” Bonnie informed them, irritation worming its way into his voice as he pulled his lunch out finally. “As if they have any right to complain, we’re the ones stuck with a bunch of weirdoes.” 

“Here here,” Foxy snorted as he began eating. Around the table, some of the listening popular students nodded in agreement. Goldie frowned, feeling slightly irritated that they were agreeing with something they had no idea about. A glance at Freddy showed a nearly identical expression as his younger brother’s eyes scanned over the rest of their table.

“But you know, Freddy,” Bonnie suddenly added, getting his friends’ attention again. “I agree. I think there’s a reason for it.”

No more was said on the topic. As their school friends began talking about the cheerleader who kissed a band geek and silence fell over the Fazcrew, Goldie frowned and looked at his untouched lunch.  _ What does that even mean, Bonnie? _

* * *

 

As they walked towards the art studio, Bonnie suddenly fell quiet and a frown tugged at his lips. Goldie exchanged a glance with Freddy; did that mean what he thought it meant? Freddy simply shrugged.

“I’m tellin’ ya, Blackbeard’s death wasn’t justified,” Foxy was arguing behind them.

“Blackbeard was a pirate, pirates were criminals, Foxy,” Chica snorted. “Pardoned or not.”

“Well he- oh god dammit,” Foxy cut off, whining as they entered the art studio to find, just as Goldie had thought, Springtrap and friends  _ were _ in there.  _ Looks like I’ll be jumpin’ out that window, huh? _

Goldie barely had time to process what was actually happening before Rodriguez was falling off of the stool and Fischbach was catching him. Kain and Blanc watched Goldie and his friends unhappily for several seconds before turning back to their laughing blue rabbit.

“What just happened?” Goldie whispered quietly to Freddy, following him to the front row table

“No idea,” Freddy answered with a shrug, sitting down. “So, what movies were we wanting to watch this weekend?” He was changing the subject.

Goldie grinned and opened his mouth, but Foxy cut in with, “All of the Pirates of the Caribbean movies!”

Chica laughed, shaking her head towards Foxy. “Well, I wanna watch the first two Mummy movies this time.”

“The Indiana Jones Trilogy,” Goldie put in with a grin.

“This is going to be a long weekend then,” Freddy chuckled. “While we’re at it let’s add National Treasures to it.”

“Leave it to you to say National Treasures,” Chica laughed, smiling. “Sounds like we got a weekend planned.”

Goldie, realizing Bonnie hadn’t added anything, turned to look at their rabbit friend. The rabbit’s brows were drawn together and his mouth was pulled into a deep frown as he watched Goldie and their friends, but he didn’t seem to really be paying attention to the conversation.

“Bonnie?” he questioned, raising a brow at his friend. When he received no answer, he frowned and looked at Freddy. Freddy shrugged and Goldie’s frown sharpened, turning back to the rabbit next to him. “Bonnie?” he tried again. Still receiving no response, he leaned over and waved a hand in front of Bonnie’s face. “Booonniiieeee.”

_ Still no response? _ His eyes trailed over to Foxy, who was scowling with perked ears.  _ Foxy too? _ As that thought crossed his mind, though, the fox jerkily turned to them, brow raised.  _ Oh, at least he’s in reality. _

“Bonnie, earth to Bonnie,” he tried again. This time Bonnie reacted, blinking in surprise and looking up at him.

The rabbit grinned and gave him a wave, saying, “Sorry, lost in thought.”

“I noticed,” Goldie snorted, dropping his hand on the table. “You didn’t even tell us what movie you wanted to add to the marathon. Really, though, what’s got you so distracted?” he asked, frowning at his friend. “You’re not usually like this.”

Bonnie shrugged noncommittally, cluing Goldie in to the fact that Bonnie was not listening very much, if at all. He all but confirmed it when he abruptly turned around, looking towards the back of the studio. Goldie glanced over his shoulder, brows drawn together, and noticed Springtrap and friends were doing their huddle-whisper thing again... most likely to keep the people at the table in front of them unaware of their conversation.  _ What’s got you so interested in them, Bonnie? _

“They’ll be too drunk to even remember the next morning,” the white fox snorted, a little too loudly if the way their friends looked at them was any indication. Whatever they said next was lost, as they lowered their voice to match their friends’. Goldie looked at his brother, brow raised in question. Freddy didn’t shrug this time, just looked back at him with a frown and furrowed brow.

_ Too drunk to remember? Who? _

“Wanna talk about weird?” Bonnie muttered to them, catching their attention again. “I’ll tell you guys everything later.”

“Everything?” Foxy questioned, scowling towards him. “Wait, why are you suddenly so interested in those weirdoes? We’ve spoken to them all of  _ once. _ We’re their science partners, not their  _ friends _ .”

_ Foxy’s got a point, Bonnie. Whatever you think is going on, we don’t need to get involved in. We don’t like them, they don’t like us, it’s as simple as that. _

“You don’t need to be friends to know something’s going on here,” Bonnie told them with a frown, turning his gaze to the board in front.

_ It doesn’t matter, Bonnie, we don’t even  _ know _ them, it’s not  _ our _ responsibility- _

“I’m not waiting for someone to fucking  _ die _ before I’m willing to do something, weirdoes or not.”

That stopped Goldie’s thoughts in their tracks; he barely noticed the sudden tense silence that fell over the five of them, broken only by the chatter around the room. He stared at Bonnie, eyes wide and shocked, and he was sure it had dropped a few degrees in the room. Or maybe that was just him.  _ Die? What does that even mean, Bonnie? What did you see, hear, whatever, to make you think that?! _

_ “Die? _ What the hell do you  _ think’s  _ going on that makes you think one of them’s gonna get  _ killed _ ?” he demanded, keeping his voice as low as he could. He didn’t want anyone else to overhear  _ that _ , after all. 

Bonnie looked like he was about to answer but at that moment the bell rang. “Later,” he hissed as the teacher stood up and approached the front. Goldie turned to look at Freddy now; Freddy’s frown was somehow even  _ deeper _ than before, something Goldie hadn’t thought possible. His eyes were distant, thoughtful, and slightly narrowed.  _ He knows something too. _

He couldn’t ask, though, as a new voice entered the scene. “Everyone quiet down now! Up front, all eyes please, so we can get this over and done with and get started on having fun.” He turned his gaze to the front, seeing another human standing there. He didn’t  _ really _ process the sight, though; he was still thinking about Bonnie’s words.

_ Bonnie’s worried that one of them is gonna fucking  _ die _?! And he won’t even tell us what the hell happened to make him think that! What the hell do you think’s going on, Bonnie? _

* * *

They didn’t talk about it during their free period, but Goldie could excuse that; Chica had Spanish class during their Monday free period. But when they didn’t even come  _ close _ to mentioning it as they drove home, he got a little irritated and decided to just  _ stare _ at Bonnie, hoping he’d take the hint.

He didn’t.

_ You don’t just  _ say  _ things like that and then never say anything else about it! Come on, rabbit, speak up! Ugh! _

It annoyed Goldie, but he held his tongue. He didn’t want to give the others the wrong impression, after all. It wasn’t like he was _concerned_ or anything- well, okay, _yes_ , he would be concerned even if his worst enemy’s life was in danger, but that was beside the point. The fact of the matter was that Bonnie was suggesting that a teenager- a _classmate_ - was in danger of _dying._ Who wouldn’t be somewhat concerned about _that_?!

It wasn’t until they were settling down in Bonnie’s bedroom to fill out the review packet that it was finally brought up again. Much to Goldie’s surprise, though, it wasn’t himself who burst out with it.

“Bonnie, what the fuck did you mean earlier?” Chica finally demanded, dropping her pen down on her packet and turning her magenta eyes to Bonnie. Goldie felt relieved as he realized he wasn’t the only one thinking about it still. Judging from the way Freddy’s gaze snapped up from his own packet, he had been too. Foxy was the only one who rolled his eyes in response to the question, obviously annoyed at the topic. They didn’t exactly talk about Springtrap Salvage’s group of friends in their spare time, after all.

“What do you mean what the fuck did I mean?” Bonnie asked, frowning. “I think I was very clear.”

“Yes,” Freddy cut in before Chica could go on, “You were clear in the fact you think one of them is likely to die. What we don’t understand is how you came to that conclusion.”

“And after only one conversation,” Foxy added with a snort, sitting up to properly look at the rabbit on the bed. Clearly he wasn’t taking Bonnie’s concern nearly as seriously as Goldie, Freddy, and Chica were. “C’mon, Bonnie, you’re just reading too much into their words. We don’t even  _ know _ them. We’ve only spoken to them once and you’ve only overheard their conversations, what, a couple times? You’re hearing what you  _ want  _ to hear.”  _ Makes sense, yeah... _

“He’s got a point,” Goldie agreed with a frown, glancing at Bonnie. “You have a suspicion about somethin’, so your mind’s twisting things to match it. It’s pretty common, actually.” Freddy shifted in his spot next to Goldie, causing the elder bear to glance over at him. He was frowning again and Goldie just  _ knew _ he was about to disagree.

“I don’t know,” Freddy started before Bonnie could respond. “Somethin’ does seem…  _ off _ . And I’m not just talkin’ about how strange they are,” he added with a stern glance towards Foxy. Foxy’s mouth promptly snapped shut. “I think Bonnie’s right, somethin’s goin’ on. And you’re right, too, Foxy; we  _ don’t _ know them.” He paused, frowning. “We see only what they let us see.”

Goldie frowned at that, but what could he say? It  _ was  _ true. They-

“Well,” Freddy added suddenly, glancing at the ceiling. “ _ Supposedly _ we only see what they want us to see.” Goldie raised a brow, watching his younger twin.

“Supposedly?” Chica parroted, frowning. “What do you mean supposedly?”

“When you’re not used to people watching you or paying you any attention, you’re bound to screw up,” Freddy stated simply with a shrug. “Bonnie? Context, please?”

Bonnie frowned, as though he was thinking. “Well,” he started slowly, choosing his words carefully. Goldie glanced at his friends; Chica and Foxy looked skeptical but Freddy was frowning, watching Bonnie patiently and intently. “When we were doing that stupid questionnaire thing, Rodriguez… had a freak-out, I guess? He just suddenly… froze up,” he elaborated, struggling to find a way to describe it. “Like, he wasn’t even  _ breathing. _ And when I tried to say something, he got really, uh…” He trailed off, as if unsure how to explain it.

“Oh,” Chica muttered, catching their attention. “That’s what that was about, huh? He sounded really pissed, Bonnie.”

“You heard that, huh?” Bonnie frowned as Chica nodded. “I don’t know what set him off, really. He wasn’t just angry, he was  _ scared _ . Terrified, even. I don’t even know what I did to scare him but he didn’t seem all there.”

“So you did something to scare him,” Foxy scoffed, leaning back against the wall. “That doesn’t mean anything, Bonnie.”

Goldie felt nervous as Bonnie's steely red eyes locked onto Foxy's amber. There was absolutely no insecurity in his gaze, no doubt, no hesitation.

“A bloody bandage does, though,” Bonnie deadpanned, startling them into silence. Goldie frowned and fidgeted with his pen.  _ I don’t like where this is going. _ “When we went into the art room his shirt rode up when Fishbach pulled him to his feet. You guys were talking about our marathon and I was watching them, ‘cause they had said some really weird things earlier. He had a bandage wrapped around his abdomen and there was blood on it- and I wasn’t just  _ seeing _ things, ma’s a doctor, I know a bandage when I see one.”

Goldie exchanged a worried look with Freddy.  _ I’m not sure I want to get involved in this, _ he thought.  _ It really isn’t any of our business. _

“So he probably fell,” Foxy started, though there was an uneasy edge to his voice. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Fischbach’s practically mute,” Freddy suddenly said, cutting off whatever Bonnie had been about to reply with. It was so random and off-topic- at least it  _ seemed  _ like it was. And it was… really confusing.

“Huh?” Goldie frowned, turning to look at his brother.  _ What? But he was speaking earlier _ . “No he’s not, I heard him talking.”

“Practically. I didn’t say he  _ is _ ,” Freddy sighed, shaking his head. “I thought he was being rude at first but he was legitimately struggling to say anything.” Freddy hesitated a moment before adding, “He looked really ashamed about it, too. I basically had to watch him the entire time… which is kind of awkward but yeah...”

“And that has anything to do with a bloody bandage because…?” Chica prompted, raising a brow at the brown bear. Goldie didn’t like the way this was going, not one bit.

“He had a bruise around his wrist, too,” Freddy told them, lifting a hand as if to emphasize his words. “He rubbed his wrist and ended up pulling the fur back and I noticed it. I didn’t really get a good look, considering I was only glancing, but it… looked a  _ lot  _ like a hand. From what I saw, anyway,” he added, as if to give it the benefit of the doubt, but he sounded pretty damn sure to Goldie.

The friends all exchanged glances, frowning. “We shouldn’t jump to conclusions,” Chica warned them wisely, shaking her head. “We don’t know what’s going on. For all we know they could have been roughhousing or gotten themselves into an accident. Besides, Kain didn’t look like she had  _ any _ sort of trouble going on,” she added. 

“I didn’t notice anything about Salvage either,” Goldie put in, though now he was wondering a few things himself. Like where exactly did he get all of those scars… and why did he look like he was on the verge of a panic attack, anyway? It was just a stupid lab arrangement... “He was just really nervous and wary.” 

“Blanc kept zoning out but that doesn’t mean anything,” Foxy huffed, shaking his head at them. “They’re all weirdoes and they’re bonded by their mutual weirdness, but that doesn’t  _ mean _ anything, Bonnie.”

“I’m just saying,” Bonnie sighed, his ears twitching in aggravation, “that I  _ really _ think someone needs to keep an eye on those five. Something is  _ wrong _ here and if it has  _ anything _ to do with what I think it might-”

“We have no right to suspect  _ anything _ !” Foxy interrupted with a snarl, sitting up again to glare at Bonnie. Goldie watched, somewhat shocked by the aggressive display. It was  _ very _ rare for any of them to raise their voices at each other. “There was a bruise, a bandage, and a freak-out, whatever! It doesn’t mean anything, it could be any number of things! It’s none of our business.”

They were all rendered speechless by Foxy’s outburst. Goldie exchanging a worried glance with Freddy yet again, his stomach churning because he  _ wanted _ to agree but… he didn’t. Part of him was confident that the fox was wrong. 

He really didn’t want a fight to break out between two of his best friends, especially not about Bonito Rodriguez and Alfred Fischbach of all people.  _ We spoke to them for all of ten minutes and it’s already turned into a disaster. How the hell did this happen? _

“I think,” Chica started with a sigh, picking her pen up, “that both of you are right.”

_ What? _

“How can both of them be right?” Goldie questioned quizzically, turning to his female friend. “They’re saying the exact  _ opposite _ of each other.”

“They’re both right in a way,” Chica explained, pointing towards Bonnie. “Bonnie’s right, somethin’ fishy’s goin’ on, and if it puts any of them in danger then just standing by and watching it happen is just as bad as dealin’ the blow ourselves.” That didn’t sit well with Goldie because he  _ knew _ it was true. It would be like standing there and watching a senior quarterback punch a freshman flutist. You just…  _ didn’t. _ Because it was wrong.

Chica shifted her pen over towards Foxy. “But Foxy’s also right that we can’t just assume we know what’s going on and get involved. If we do, we risk messing a  _ lot _ of things up, for ourselves and Fischbach and his friends.” He realized she was right and shifted uncomfortably. At the very least they would cause a hassle and scene, at worst they could accidentally tear their strange classmates’ lives apart. 

At best, though, it could possibly save their lives.

She dropped her pen again, watching them all sternly. “We  _ don’t _ know them, we’re outsiders looking in. We  _ don’t _ know what’s going on, we  _ don’t know  _ so we shouldn’t get involved _. _ The most we should do at this point is watch for signs.”

“Watch for signs?” Foxy repeated incredulously. “Haven’t we already established that when you get an idea your mind twists things to match it?”

“Then don’t call ambiguous actions or conversations proof or signs,” Chica sighed, shaking her head. “Foxy, you should know this better than any of us.”

That silenced Foxy- and the rest of them, too. Goldie nervously glanced at his vulpine friend, who was staring at Chica. His lips were twisted into a frown, but at least he wasn’t baring his teeth. It was a bit of a low blow, if you asked Goldie, but… it  _ was _ true. 

Finally, the fox spat, “Fine.” It was an agreement. Begrudging, disapproving, irritated beyond hell… but an agreement, nonetheless.

“So wait,” Goldie started slowly, his mind wrapping around exactly what they had just discussed. He was hoping he had missed something or maybe misunderstood. “Did we just agree to keep an eye on our  _ least favourite people in the entire school? _ ”

“Pretty much,” Freddy confirmed with a nod. “Just because you don’t like them doesn’t mean they deserve whatever’s happening.”

_ Huh. “You.” Typical Freddy. _

“If anything at all,” Chica added warningly.

“If anything at all, yes,” Freddy agreed with a nod.

Goldie sighed and looked back down at hi review pack, frowning. “Keep an eye on our science partners, huh? What exactly are we watching for, anyway? Signs, but signs of what?”  _ Please don’t say what I think you’re gonna say. _

There was a moment of silence before Bonnie said, “Anything suspicious, I guess. Things like… I dunno… depression, abuse, gang activity- you know, that kind of stuff.”

_ Abuse. _ That was the word that really echoed in Goldie’s mind.  _ Are we really suspecting abuse, of all things? _ His eyes flicked over to Foxy, whose expression was now suddenly blank as he stared down at his hand.  _ I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. What  _ are _ the signs for that, anyway? _

None of them said a thing more. Slowly and quietly, they all continued working on their review packets, the not-so-silent agreement hanging in the air between them.  _ Keep an eye on our “enemies” for their safety. How do we even go about doing that? Someone’s bound to notice us suddenly paying attention to them.  _ They’re _ bound to notice that- if they haven’t already. And if Bonnie’s right, then what? Call the police? Get them put in the system with only a few more months of school left? Force them into becoming  _ another  _ statistic? Why are we even getting involved?  _ He closed his eyes and dropped his head down onto his packet. 

He was unsure of everything now. There was no denying that something was  _ off…  _ and sure, there were pretty huge signs that  _ something  _ was going on. It wasn’t really any of their business, though. 

_ But I’m stuck with this guy until  _ graduation, _ so if there  _ is _ something going on, I need to know. _

The thought manifested before he could really consider it, and though he tried to dismiss it he suddenly realized that it was  _ true _ . If something  _ was _ going on then it  _ was _ his business, because he was now, like it or not, involved with the golden rabbit’s life. 

Bonnie was right. And he was  _ not _ happy about that.

“What’s the answer for number eight?”


	5. Be careful of Watching Eyes, Spring

“Thank you for your cooperation, class. Remember, these review packets need to be done by class Wednesday. You can use the next five minutes to talk amongst yourselves but I ask you don’t leave your desks, please.”

 _You’re not welcome,_ Spring thought to himself, glancing across the room towards Chii and Mangle. He could see Chii had already turned around to speak with Mangle. _Good._ He looked over his shoulder at Alfred, who was frowning very slightly as he stared down at his desk.

His expression told Spring that he wasn’t happy. Of course _none_ of them were. _Well, looks like it’s time to distract,_ he decided, turning forward again and looking at his rabbit friend. “Blu,” he whispered, watching as the blue furred rabbit’s ear twitched and he turned around. Blu flashed him a strained grin and Spring frowned.

“Yeah, Spring?” Blu asked, his voice quiet but just as strained as his smile. That wasn’t a good sign. _Need to find a way to ease his worry._

“What’re you thinking, Blu?” he asked, watching his emerald-eyed friend. Blu didn’t even give a sign of hearing him. “... Blu?” He was very worried. Blu didn’t often zone out.

“Huh?” Blu blinked and looked at him, seeming to come back to reality. Spring gave him a fake smile.

“Careful,” he started with a forced laugh, “You’re pulling a Mangle.”

Blu gave him another grin and leaned over on his desk. Spring realized he was trying to put some distance between himself and Henderson’s watching eyes. _Creep._ “Me, pull a Mangle? Aw, c’mon, I’m not _that_ cool, you know~”

That actually got a smile out of Spring. “My mistake,” he laughed, giving Blu a small grin of his own. “Mangle _does_ always beat you in the studio, anyway,” he added, knowing Blu and Alfred would both play along to those words. The truth was, Blu’s biggest screw-up was forgetting to tune his guitar. Even Spring messed up more than Blu did. Blu was _good._

Blu and Alfred knew that as well as he did, which made the mock-offense all the more entertaining. “I beg to differ!” Blu declared. “Mangle _barely_ stays on tempo!”

Spring pretended not to notice the Fazcrew just… _watching_ them, _listening_ to them, because he realized that was exactly what they were doing. At least, the members beside them were. “Mangle _marks_ the tempo, Blu,” he started, feeling mortified when a giggle escaped his lips. Almost on instinct he let his ear droop down, blocking his face from the view of the bear next to him. “They can’t be _off_ tempo when they _make_ the tempo.”

“I disagree,” Alfred put in from behind him, clearly amused by the conversation.

 _Finally_ , Spring snorted and turned in his seat, his back now to Fazbear, to look at Alfred. _He’s relaxing a bit._ “Oh shush, Mr. Vocals,” he teased. “If I remember right, _you_ were the one off tempo this morning.”

“Nope,” Alfred immediately retorted, a smirk playing at his lips. “ _You._ ”

That was the answer Spring was waiting for. “Me?” He lifted his head slightly and straightened his back, putting on the most haughty expression he could manage. It was worth it to see both of their expressions morph into disbelief and amusement- _especially_ Alfred’s. “I’ll have you know, good sirs, I am _not_ at fault here. _Obviously_ the song was too slow to begin with.” Blame any and everything else… That was his mother’s logic, anyway, so it seemed fitting right then.

Both of his friends knew that he was imitating his mother. Alfred snorted and shook his head while Blu began giggling almost hysterically, saying between giggles, “Oh my gods, Spring, _really?_ ”

Spring smiled and dropped the haughty countenance, laughing softly. “I _am_ really sorry about that, by the way.” Remembering the “audience” they had, he dropped his voice further. “I was out late and…” he trailed, realizing that even speaking this low the Fazcrew could hear him. He didn’t even want them to know _about_ his brother, even _less_ about his brother’s chronic nightmares. “You know… Last night wasn’t very…” he couldn’t just say it. “You know.”

He didn’t need to say it, though. Alfred nodded his understanding as Blu said, “We know.” The bell rang and hardly a millisecond had passed before the bear in the desk next to him was up- he almost beat Blu, even. _Impressive._ Spring didn’t pay him any mind, though. “And then you get up at unholy o’clock,” the blue rabbit added.

Surprisingly, Alfred beat him to the response; “Hypocrite.”

As the other students filed out, hardly giving the “strange” classmates a glance, Blu put his hands on his hips. He looked very sassy for someone who could barely find a reason to get up in the morning. “I’ll have you know that I am a _proud_ hypocrite, thank you very much,” he stated with an attitude that he _definitely_ didn’t possess, and it made Spring start giggling again.

White and pink-furred arms circled around Blu’s shoulders and Mangle sighed dramatically as they leaned a bit on Blu. “This was the most horrible thing I have ever gone through.” That was so not true and they all knew it, but it summed up their feelings about the situation very well. “Please tell me we have something to look forward to!”

Spring grinned as he finally stood up. “Well, it’s lunch time and then we have art with Mr. Smith.”

Even as he said it, he felt an excitement filling him. He always loved art class; even when they were doing still lifes, they just had so much freedom to play around and, well… be teenagers. Mr. Smith was a nice guy, though Spring had a feeling that the man had suspicions about them. A man _that_ cued into detail? Well… he was sure to notice something with the students in his class every year. And Spring could clearly remember that day Alfred walked into class with a black eye.

Any other teacher would have dismissed it as Alfred being a delinquent. Not Mr. Smith. Not Mr. Smith or Mr. Fitzgerald. They knew what Alfred was like. They knew what all of them were like.

“Yay!” Chii cheered happily, lifting her bag up as Spring turned to look at her. “Come on, let’s go claim our table before some freshmen get it. I made lunch for all of us.” Then she hesitated, her smile turning down into a frown. Spring watched her bright blue eyes flick around before she continued with, “Are you guys alright?”

 _Did you freak out? Have a panic attack? Did they say something? Did they_ see _anything?_ That was what she really meant and the words hung heavily in the air between them.

Blu was the first to answer after giving an extra sweep of the room. “I think I may have really fucked up already,” he informed them, tone low so that it wouldn’t carry.

Spring exchanged a worried look with the others, his ears drooping. _That doesn’t sound good._

“Why?” Alfred voiced, but it was the words that he didn’t say which stuck out the most.

_What happened? Are you okay? Do you need us to help you?_

The blue rabbit’s expression turned a little tight and Spring knew he was thinking of how to respond to that. He wasn’t sure how to answer, that much was clear. Frowning, Chii started, “You looked like you almost had an episode.” Blu turned to look at her, surprise clear in his gaze. “I heard you kinda… at the, uh, future plans question,” the chicken explained a little awkwardly. “I looked over at you and you looked pretty bad, Blu.”

That didn’t sound good. _Blu almost had an episode right in the middle of class? Geez, how did I not notice…?_

“Oh…” The blue rabbit smiled nervously as he reached up to rub at the back of his neck, glancing around. “Well, uh, Henderson said something that made me think about last night…” Spring frowned and exchanged a look with Mangle over Blu’s shoulder. Mangle straightened up, dropping their arms away from Blu so they could step aside and actually look at Blu’s face.

When it came to the five of them, so much more than words were needed. Over half of their _real_ conversation was spoken through expression, after all.

“It’s no big deal, though. It was a… really big slip-up but it doesn’t exactly say what happened,” Blu continued quickly, as though it would make them feel less worried. Spring supposed he honestly thought it would. “It’s not like he saw the bandages or something. For all he knows anything could have triggered it, so, uh, yeah…” His voice trailed off, looking at each of their worried expressions. “What about you guys? Everything okay?”

It was a diversion. He knew he hadn’t convinced them. However, the middle of a classroom that anyone could walk by or pause at or even enter was no place to have this conversation anyway, so Spring went along with it and shrugged. “Yeah. I didn’t have a panic attack so that’s something.” He turned his gaze to the bear. “Al?”

Alfred shrugged slightly as they finally began walking towards the hall, taking a right to head towards the cafeteria. “I guess.” _Something happened but I don’t have the words to explain it._ That was what that meant. Spring exchanged a frown with the others and switched his gaze over to Mangle expectantly.

“I zoned out a couple times,” Mangle informed them when they entered the cafeteria, walking towards the table in the back corner. “But I wouldn’t count that as a fuck up, really.”

 _Considering you always zone out, even with us?_ Spring almost smiled, sitting down. Chii slipped into the seat on his left, with Alfred on her other side, while Blu and Mangle rounded the table and sat across from Chii and Alfred, respectively. It was their normal set up; a wall on Mangle’s right, everyone in front of and to the left of them, and no one across from Spring.

“Nothing wrong with being a dreamer,” Chii stated, giving Mangle a smile. “I didn’t even speak to Sanchez so I’m perfectly fine,” she added. Spring smiled slightly, glad for that.

“So all in all, horrible day?” Blu summarized.

“Absolutely,” Spring, Chii, and Mangle chorused as Alfred simply nodded. Mangle then added, “Should’ve known the moment you lost your balance this morning that it would be.”

Spring watched as the white fox and blue rabbit accepted the fruit salads offered to them. “Yeah, sorry,” Blue apologized, despite having nothing to apologize for. Spring accepted the salad offered to him, giving Chii a grateful smile. He never really made lunch for himself, as his mornings were occupied with getting Plushie ready for school and getting him fed, so he always appreciated when Chii took time out of her morning to make something for them.

Chii knew them well enough to know none of them ate breakfast. Spring simply couldn’t stomach anything that soon after taking the medicine, and the others… well… he pushed the thought from his mind, focusing on his only female friend as she pulled five more containers out of her bag. Spring laughed softly as Blu perked up at the sight of the strawberry-topped cake slices.

“Awesome!” Blu cheered, a wide, true grin stretching across his face. It warmed Spring’s heart to see that. “Thanks, Chii, you’re the best!”

“Aw, my grandmother could have done so much better,” Chii laughed humbly, smiling at them as she handed the slices out. She then gave Spring a little grin and the golden rabbit knew exactly what she was about to say. “Sorry, Spring, I would’ve gotten you chocolate cake but we don’t have any right now.”

Spring laughed at that; it was well known… well… among his closest friends and siblings, anyway, that he _loved_ chocolate. The others liked to call him an addict. “That’s alright,” he started, looking over towards Blu with a devious smirk. “Chocolate might be _far_ superior but this is good too~”

Blu’s response was immediate, turning his plastic fork around and pointing it “threateningly” at him. “Now wait just a moment there, goldy-bun, ain’t _nothin’_ superior to strawberry!” he declared as their friends around them laughed, and Spring couldn’t help but giggle; goldy-bun?

“I beg to differ,” Chii giggled from beside Spring, prompting him to glance at her as she and Alfred shared a look. “There _is_ something superior to strawberries.”

“Chocolate is not it, though,” Mangle cut in with a snort, turning their grin to Spring. “Not even close~”

Spring pointed melodramatically towards his canine friend. “Treason!” he declared a little louder than necessary, but none of them cared as they all devolved into almost-hysterical laughter. It felt good to _really_ laugh, feeling free and young for the first time in a long time.

To feel normal.

* * *

Spring laughed along with Blu and Mangle, spinning the shorter rabbit around on the swivel stool near the back of the studio. The blue rabbit’s ears were flattened, so they weren’t being tossed around as he spun, and his head was ducked down and eyes closed tightly as he hung onto the seat. Spring was aware of Alfred hovering nearby, his more practical mind thinking about Blu’s safety, but Spring was concentrating on that laugh and grin.

Blu was _happy_. Spring wanted to keep it that way.

Then reality crashed down on them again. “Oh god dammit,” a familiar, though unidentifiable, voice complained from the doorway, and all three of them stopped laughing abruptly. Blu sat up before Spring or Mangle could stop his spinning, causing him to overbalance and fall with a surprised squeal.

Alfred jerked forward and caught Blu before Spring could even react, and he turned his gaze to the door where the Fazcrew were watching them with a slight frown. _Rude._

As the Fazcrew began heading towards the front table, Spring turned his own gaze back to Blu and Alfred as Blu said, “Sorry, Al! Can you put me down now?” _Is he playing it off?_ “Don’t drop me!” Almost immediately, the bear dropped him. The remaining fall was less than a foot, though, so the little _oomph_ that escaped the rabbit’s lips wasn’t pained at all. In fact, he began laughing as he looked up at the now-smirking Alfred. “You’re such a jerk, Alfred.”

Spring giggled slightly and watched Alfred haul Blu to his feet, letting his gaze wander over to Chii. She was watching Blu with a frown. “Shirt,” Alfred said quietly, and Spring frowned, looking back at Blu just in time to see him pulling his shirt down. It had ridden up. Worriedly, Spring glanced towards the front of the room, but none of the Fazcrew were looking at them.

Well, it looked like Henderson had been turned around, but he was looking at his friends so… there was a chance Blu covered it in time. He blinked and looked over at Blu as he approached the table Chii was already seated at. Blu dropped down on Chii’s right and Spring shrugged, following and sitting down on Blu’s other side. Alfred took a seat beside Chii and Mangle claimed the seat between Spring and the window; no surprise there.

“So,” Mangle started, drawing the others’ attention to them. “I think we should do something this weekend.”

“We do something _every_ weekend, Mangle,” Spring pointed out with a small laugh. It was true; he couldn’t remember one weekend in the past five years that he had spent without his friends.

Well, really, he could remember only a handful of days since he was old enough to walk around town on his own without his friends, but those were usually “emergency situation” days… AKA “I can’t walk right now” days. He pushed the thought aside.

“I think they mean something outside the house, Spring,” Blu snorted, leaning on his hand. “What’d you have in mind, Mangle?”

A grin broke out on Mangle’s face and they leaned closer to them, as though about to divulge some deep, dark secret. “War by the water.”

“Didn’t someone nearly fall in the lake last time we did that?” Blu questioned, gaze sliding over to Spring. Spring could feel his cheeks heat up at the memory; it was over the summer and the other four had managed to escape home for a few hours, so they had gotten water guns and filled balloons with water, headed down to the lake that was visible from his house, and had a “war.” Spring had, very clumsily, slipped on the wet grass and nearly toppled over into the water… Alfred had been his only saving grace.

Up until he shot him in the face, anyway. The cheeky bear...

“Well it’s got my vote~!” Blu finished with a giggle.

“Same,” Chii agreed and Alfred nodded, a small smirk playing at his lips. _Clearly_ the memory was flashing through his mind as well.

Spring laughed and shook his head, saying, “I can’t tell if you just want to see me fall in the lake this time or not.” He snorted softly and shrugged, indicating that he was totally up for it. _War by the water is always fun, anyway_. “A day at the lake sounds fun. We could use a vacation.”

He hesitated and lifted a hand, waving them all in. Blu scooted his chair closer, Chii and Alfred following suit, and they leaned in as close as they could when they were all sitting in a line like that. They were all close, though, so none of them had any qualms being chest-to-back or shoulder-to-shoulder or hip-to-hip; they were all like siblings, such things were innocent among the five of them.

His voice low, he asked, “What’ll be the excuses this time, though?”

“Research project?” was Chii’s instant suggestion. It was an excuse they surprisingly didn’t use often. “Tell them we have a project that’ll take all of Saturday?”

“Why not Sunday too?” Spring offered. “Make it an overnight thing.” He glanced around to gauge their reactions. None of them seemed to be against it. “We could camp out in my back yard if it’s not raining.”

Now Blu raised his hand, uttering an, “Um,” to get their attention. When he had it, he continued with, “My folks have been trying to get me to _drop out_ of school, I highly doubt they’ll care about me having a research project.”

It was a fair point and Spring frowned. Blu’s parents _wouldn’t_ accept a research project as an excuse, not like Alfred’s or Mangle’s _might_. They thought school was a waste of time for the blue rabbit.

Of course, they thought Blu was a waste of space and a waste of money, so no one really took their opinions seriously anyway.

“Sneak,” Alfred said, getting their attention. “Don’t need to know.”

It wouldn’t be the first time, but Spring clearly remembered the last time he was caught sneaking out. He kept his expression neutral, but inside he was squirming; he hadn’t been able to deal with Blu’s injuries himself. He _had_ to take him to the hospital, and the doctors and nurses hadn’t exactly believed their “tripped and fell” excuse the _first_ time, much less the _second._

“And if they come in at midnight to find me gone?” Clearly Blu was thinking about it, too. He sounded wary.

“They’ll be too drunk to even remember the next morning,” Mangle snorted, _much_ too loudly in Spring’s opinion, but he didn’t need to hush the fox as they dropped their own voice and continued with, “It might work for my parents, and even if it doesn’t it’s not like they even know where Spring’s house is.” That was true. None of his friends’ families knew where he lived. And they _certainly_ didn’t know that their children were friends with the son of a self-made multimillionaire. “We can’t keep using the same old excuses, Blu, they’ll only work for so long.”

“Well,” Spring sighed, “they only need to work for eight or nine more months.” He ran a hand through his fur, tugging it through a tangle. It reminded him why he needed to get it trimmed. “Then we’re out of this hellhole and off to freedom.”

The others nodded in agreement as Blu let his gaze wander. Mangle started to say, “I’m not sure if my parents have, uh, _plans_ for us this weekend, but-”

“Guys, shut up!” Blu suddenly hissed, his gaze snapping over to Mangle. Mangle’s mouth snapped shut, looking as shocked as Spring felt.

“Blu?” Spring questioned, looking at his friend quizzically. Blu’s eyes glanced towards the front, and Spring followed his gaze to the red eyes of Bonnie Henderson, whose brow was quirked. He looked totally unimpressed. Spring looked back at Blu and leaned in, speaking so quietly that he doubted Mangle beside him could hear. “Has he been listening to us?”

“I think so,” Blu whispered back. “I must’a _really_ fucked up,” he added and Spring frowned- because it was true. None of the Fazcrew ever paid them any attention beyond tossing them a sneer or something. The fact that Henderson was watching them and listening in on their conversations only proved that he… _suspected_ something.

But what was it? Blu had done nothing to suggest what was _really_ happening, after all. What could Henderson suspect from them?

“Relax, Blu,” he sighed and straightened up again, plastering a small grin on his face as he looked around at all of his friends. _Time to play it off, guys._ He leaned on his hand, stretching his fingers as he did so. He knew they’d catch the signal. “So, war by the water Saturday?” From the corner of his eye, he saw Henderson finally turn around. “And then camping in the back yard if weather permits?”

“Throw in a picnic and a jam session and I agree,” Blu declared with an only half-faked grin. Spring and the others laughed.

“Oh Blu,” Mangle sighed dramatically, leaning in front of Spring to drop their hand on Blu’s shoulder. “Haven’t you realized by now we will _always_ jam?”

Before any of them could respond, the bell rang. Blu’s attention snapped to the front, so Spring looked ahead as well. A red-haired human was standing there with a grin, hands on his hips as he surveyed the class. “I think class is about to start,” Blu put in unnecessarily.

Before Spring could give a smart remark, the teacher began his introduction. “Everyone quiet down now! Up front, all eyes please, so we can get this over and done with and get started on having fun. Alright then, everyone settled? Good. I’m Fritz Smith and this is art, specifically drawing…”

* * *

Spring sighed as he parked the car, stepping out and frowning up at the school building in front of him. It would get a little tiring driving straight from Durmont to Avera, an entire hour away, every day, but he couldn’t ask Mrs. Marks to do it twice a day. It was part of their arrangement; she takes them in, he takes them home.

Granted, he didn’t arrive until about 4:15, an entire hour after the school was let out, but he had that arranged too. He approached the front of the building and stepped inside.

It was simple, the front entrance of the school; there was an open stairwell on the right side of the hallway and a door into the offices on the left. The auditorium’s back entrance was tucked to the right of the stairwell, down a small set of steps that would be missed if you weren’t looking for it. Spring thought it was stupid for a school that had children ranging from three to nine running around to have that little door there, and maybe it was even more stupid for the teenagers that also attended the private school who could sneak in the door and claim they were members of the club... but that was really none of Spring’s business. So long as Plushie didn’t get himself hurt.

“Spring!” he heard Plushie call happily and he turned his gaze down the hallway towards the cafeteria, where a little gold rabbit was running over to him. A dark-haired bright-eyed human child followed. “Spring, I have homework!”

Spring laughed a bit and scooped the small rabbit up. At the end of the corridor, the adult- a dark violet-furred bear- he needed to check in with was approaching. “You sound way too happy for that, little rabbit,” he stated, reaching down to ruffle Tommy’s hair.

Tommy giggled and lightly batted at Spring’s hand, and Spring turned his attention to the adult. He was frowning, but he didn’t seem to be frowning out of annoyance. He looked more concerned than anything. Spring could already guess what the bear was about to say.

“Spring Salvage?” he questioned, and Spring nodded a confirmation. He could feel his heartrate pick up; he didn’t _want_ to say anything, but he knew he needed to. “You’re a lot younger than I expected.”

Spring gave a wry smile. “Actually I did say I’m seventeen,” he pointed out softly, absently stroking Plushie’s fur. Plushie giggled and looked at the bear.

“Mister Shaf, this is Spring! He’s my big brother!” he declared happily as he hugged Spring around his neck. “Can we get ice cream, Spring?”

“We’ll see about after dinner,” Spring chuckled, setting him back down on the ground. “I need to speak with, uh, Mister Shaf for a moment. Stay in sight,” he added, giving Plushie a look. The little rabbit giggled and nodded, grabbing Tommy’s hand and hurrying off towards the doors. They didn’t go outside- good, Spring didn’t want to chase them and tell them that was _not_ what he meant.

He straightened up and turned to the bear, feeling only slightly intimidated. Spring wasn’t exactly short, but this guy made him _feel_ short. It was amazing Plushie wasn’t terrified of him, and the fact he wasn’t was the only reason Spring felt he had enough courage to speak to him at all. “Thank you for watching them for me… did, um, anything happen with Plushie?”

“Nah,” Mr. Shaf answered, shaking his head. “Though I’m curious why his, uh, family picture was so big.”

Spring blinked, frowning in thought. “Well, we have an older sister and parents, so…”

“Actually your parents weren’t in it,” Shaf informed him, raising a brow. “There was a fox, two other rabbits, a chicken, and a bear. At least he said that was what they were. And of course you and him and even Tommy. I don’t think he quite understood the assignment…”

Spring closed his eyes and let out a breath. “No, I think he understood it,” he told the bear, relaxing somewhat. The bear didn’t seem mean or anything, he seemed rather considerate actually. “It’s just, his idea of family isn’t like most six-year-olds’.”

The bear hummed in thought and Spring opened his eyes again to look at him. The bear was watching him, frowning, and Spring had a sudden feeling that this bear could see right through him. He was sure that Mr. Shaf could hear the things he didn’t say.

_O_ _ur parents aren’t our family._

“Well, he’s a good kid,” Mr. Shaf finally said with a nod. “Very considerate of the other children, too.”

Spring smiled tiredly. It wasn't hard to see through the others' words, either. “Basically, he didn’t make any new friends because he was afraid of annoying them.”

“Pretty much,” Mr. Shaf confirmed. “He seems excited about the homework, though.”

“He’ll learn,” Spring joked, earning a snort from the large bear. “It was nice talking to you, Mr. Shaf, and thanks again for watching them for me,” he repeated, giving the bear as friendly a smile as he could muster. “But I need to get the boys home now.”

“If anything comes up, remember to call,” Mr. Shaf said, and Spring nodded absently as he turned and approached the two playing children. “Have a good day, Mr. Salvage.”

He resisted the urge to say he wasn’t Mr. Salvage, Mr. Salvage was his father. It would be rude to say that, so instead he simply returned the sentiment.

“You too, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look who's entered as Plushie's new teacher! I wonder how I'll be using him for the plot later ;)


	6. Circles and Lines, Goldie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooaaahhhh look at this I've finally updated! Wow!

The silence in the bedroom was heavy as he just _stared_ at the page in front of him.

It was his fourth grade yearbook, from Durmont Elementary. Scattered across the page ( _Mr. Edmund Oak’s homeroom,_ the page title read) were pictures of small children; some were dressed up, others were dressed casually, and all but five wore large, toothy grins as they stared at the camera.

He found his and his brother’s pictures, side-by-side. On the other side of Goldie’s picture, though, was another bear. This one wasn’t smiling.

Instead, Alfred Fischbach just stared at the camera blankly. There was no sign of happiness in him. In fact, he looked downright miserable with his eyes slightly downcast. Barely visible through his fur was a bruise right on his cheek.

Goldie had never noticed it before.

His eyes scanned the pictures above the row the bears were on, locating Blanc next. The fox wasn’t smiling either; they looked somewhat out of it, their eyes seeming to look through the camera- and through Goldie himself. There was an odd sadness about the fox that didn’t sit right with Goldie, and the area around their right eye looked dark and bruised, the eye itself... somewhat unnerving, actually, with its blank glaze.

Distantly, Goldie could remember the white fox having to wear an eyepatch that year. They had never answered why, and their friends had stayed as tight-lipped as they had.

His gaze found Salvage next, but the name underneath the picture _wasn’t_ Spring Salvage.

It was Spring Evans.

 _Evans._ That name was somewhat familiar to Goldie, but for the life of him he couldn’t place where he had heard it before... but it had been attached to the golden rabbit’s name in every book he had already checked- from Kindergarten to fourth.

 _So Salvage’s name changed sometime in the last seven years,_ he mused thoughtfully to himself, letting his eyes settle on the picture of the small golden rabbit.

The child looked absolutely miserable, a small frown on his face and one ear sporting a bandage... where it abruptly cut off. The tentative thought that Salvage had simply been in an accident flew out the window; the scar, clear as day across his right eye, was not present in the picture.

 _His injuries just began appearing one day. They all didn’t appear overnight at once._ The realization and its implications felt cold, so he quickly moved on from Salvage’s- Evans’?- picture.

Kain was located next, the small chick at least attempting a smile that appeared more like a grimace. It didn’t fit the youth’s face as she sat there, tense and awkward. Nothing else really stood out in her picture so Goldie let his eyes locate the happiest person he had ever seen.

Only now that smile looked fake, especially partnered with the fading bruise around his left eye. Bonito Rodriguez was smiling widely for the camera- too widely. His teeth were clenched, his gaze intense, his cheeks strained- it was an expression that no nine year old should ever have had to wear.

This was the first picture that Rodriguez smiled for, though.

 _This is when the pretending started,_ he realized miserably, closing the book and setting it in its proper pile. For a few seconds, he stared at the two piles; one pile of five for the yearbooks he’d looked through and another pile of seven for the ones he hadn’t. Absently considering the pictures he’d seen so far, he rubbed slow circles on his wrist.

Goldie was somewhat worried about what he would find, and for a moment he wanted to forego looking through the rest of the yearbooks. How many more bruises, injuries, and strange vacant expressions would he find in the other books? Would things get better or worse?

He picked up the next- their final elementary year, fifth.

It took only a few seconds to locate the page. Unlike the past books, this one had writing on the pages rather than just in the front and back. Thankfully, though, Goldie had never been that kid who would take a sharpie to other students’ pictures.

Of course it wouldn’t have mattered; Goldie and the others hadn’t started paying Salvage and his friends any attention, as negative as it had been, until halfway through sixth grade- nearly an entire year after receiving this particular book.

Salvage and the others hadn’t noticed until the beginning of high school.

He scanned the page, picking the pictures out easily enough. Nothing really stood out on this page at first; he had never noticed it and he wouldn’t have noticed it without looking at the previous years first.

All of them were smiling.

All five of their “weird” classmates were giving pleasant smiles to the camera.

Goldie found himself staring at the pictures, his eyes blank. He really _looked_ at the pictures, examining their expressions.

They looked... relaxed. Content.

They looked _wrong._

He felt like he was staring at masks; each of them, a pleasant smile of a varying degree aimed at the camera, but their eyes were distant and seemed to be gazing through the camera and right through _him,_ as though they weren’t really _there._

It was unnerving, he mused, how at a single glance and without really _looking,_ you wouldn’t even realize how _fake_ those smiles were. And who would really _look_ at a picture that wasn’t themselves or their friends? Most eyes would only glance over those pictures and be completely fooled by the smiles.

Knowing that he was just as fooled as everyone else sure was a blow to his ego. These students who, in middle school, were so distant and seemed so confident, so aware of themselves and- dare Goldie even think it?- so _full_ of themselves that they wouldn’t even talk to anyone else... All that time, they had allowed Goldie and all of their classmates to believe that they were nothing more than brats with a tendency to get in trouble...

The worst part, the golden bear realized, was that they hadn’t started that attitude until their final two years of elementary school. They weren’t _that_ distant before, even if they kept certain secrets amongst themselves as all friends did. In fact, Goldie could remember several instances where one or more of them broke off from their group to approach someone else, for one reason or another. He could even remember times that they actually contributed to the class conversations, too, before one day all of them just... stopped.

They stopped talking, they stopped separating, they stopped contributing, they stopped... _trying._

It was when they started to smile that they grew distant.

It was when they realized just putting on a smile would fool the world... because no one cared enough to look past it and see the truth.

Goldie hadn’t cared enough to see the truth.

 _I was only_ ten, _what was I_ supposed _to do? How was I_ supposed _to know it was fake?_

Salvage, who was still marked down as “Evans” in this year, had a healing scar across his right eye, clear as could be, but still his lips were turned up at the edges as he looked to the camera. It was a pleasant, calm expression. Too calm for a ten-year-old child. _Or was he eleven by this time?_

Suddenly, jerkily, Goldie grabbed the next year and flipped to the desired page, not bothering to put fifth grade back. _Sixth grade, still Evans. He was still Evans when this “rivalry” began. Why did I forget that?_ The next, seventh grade; still Evans.

 _Am I really this unobservant? Did I seriously not remember his name was_ Evans, _not Salvage?_

He grabbed the next; eighth grade. _This will definitely be the year it says Salvage, right?_

It wasn’t.

Underneath the picture of an exhausted looking rabbit child, who seemed to have matured between sixth and eighth grade much faster than children should, it still read Spring Evans.

The bear didn’t know why it was bothering him so much, but Goldie was _so sure_ that Salvage had been Salvage before the end of middle school. He knew his name had been different at _some_ point, but he was _so sure_ it had changed in or before middle school. It was what _everyone_ called him, even the teachers.

He didn’t bother putting the books away; he just grabbed the much-thicker highschool yearbook and flipped to the freshman class. This book was divided into grades and the students in each grade were listed in alphabetical order. He chose to look through the E’s first.

Just as he expected, sitting there was still Spring Evans, whose fake smile looked somehow even _more_ fake, as impossible as that seemed.

Grabbing tenth grade resulted in much the same, only this time Spring Evans didn’t even bother to fake a smile.

_How is it still Evans? I remember it being Salvage! It’s been Salvage for years!_

He picked up the final yearbook; eleventh grade, last year. He flipped it open to the E’s.

There was no Spring Evans.

Turning the pages quickly, he located the S section. It was expansive, but he didn’t have to look far. On the first “S” page, the golden rabbit, eyes dull and posture somewhat hunched over, stared through the picture with no smile and an exhausted air.

Finally, _finally,_ it was labelled Spring Salvage.

Goldie’s mind was reeling as he sat back, heavily, in his chair. The yearbooks didn’t match up with his memories. He clearly remembered in middle school that his name had been _Salvage._ He clearly remembered dubbing the rabbit “Springtrap Salvaged” as a way to make fun of what he had always assumed was a nickname and his surname... as well as his appearance, but that wasn’t the issue Goldie was focusing on at the moment.

He _clearly_ remembered the rabbit being Salvage for at _least_ five years prior to his name actually changing.

_I don’t understand. I don’t... I don’t get it. Teachers had been calling him “Salvage” since before middle school, I remember it._

_How could I not have realized it_ wasn’t _his name?_

Slowly, he began closing the open stack of books. He felt somewhat numb; if Salvage wasn’t his name, why did everyone use it? Did Salvage tell them to? Did his parents tell them to? Or was Goldie just remembering everything wrong?

 _Did we really pay so little attention that we didn’t even know their_ names?

The answer was obvious. _Yes._

Not only had they not realized something was wrong in twelve years, but _we didn’t even known their names._

He said nothing.

* * *

Goldie chose not to tell the others. Not right then, anyway. Not when he and Freddy picked everyone up, heavy silence filling the van. Not when they reached school and headed for the music room. Not during gym, where there was no sign at all of Salvage or Salvage’s friends.

He knew they were all thinking about it. He could tell by the way Bonnie slowed down, how he and Freddy began speaking quietly as they ran around the track. He didn’t bother to speed up and join, though.

There were other things to think about. _Like the fact we didn’t know their names._

Of course, that wasn’t _completely_ true. They knew Rodriguez and Kain and Fischbach’s names. They had _not_ known Blanc’s first name...

Salvage? As it turned out... they hadn’t known his first _or_ last name.

That fact made him feel slightly more miserable and horrible than it should have. He kept his eyes on the reddish-brown... pavement? He wasn’t even sure what it was- _There’s a lot of things I don’t know, huh?_

“...they skipped the whole day or just this class.” He glanced up, raising a brow as he passed Bonnie and Freddy; they had slowed to a fast walk. Goldie chose not to stick around; the coach wouldn’t accept their speed.

He turned his eyes back to the pavement, following the painted lanes.

_So Spring Salvage’s name changed just a year ago- or less, even. I wonder why... and how come we didn’t even notice?_

“Fazbear! Henderson! Pick up the pace!”

 _What am I missing here? What happened last year that would cause his name to change? His parents didn’t get divorced, did they? Wait- does he even have two parents?_ He frowned at the thought, not even registering as Freddy and Bonnie both passed him again. _I don’t even know... For all I know, he doesn’t even_ have _parents in the first place._

 _But that name... Evans... where have I heard it before? Well,_ he snorted to himself, _other than attached to some stranger two counties over. Isn’t that a local family’s name? I don’t even know..._

Blinking, he glanced up, almost stumbling as he _finally_ realized something. _Mimi Evans,_ he thought, slowing down as he stared at his brother’s back. _Mimi Evans graduated a few years ago, salutatorian._

 _Wait- is Mimi Evans Salvage’s_ sister?

“Fazbear!” the coach barked and Goldie winced, immediately breaking back into a jog; he had nearly come to a complete standstill at the realization.

No one knew much about the black rabbit in question. She had always kept to herself, never speaking to friends or mentioning family, and rumour had it that the moment graduation was over she jumped in a car and skipped town. No one had heard of or seen her since, not even on her social media accounts. It was like she had just... ceased to exist.

 _Is_ that _Salvage’s sister?_ he repeated to himself. _I mean- Evans is a common last name so maybe not, but..._

Not knowing who was related to Salvage was a little more excusable than flat-out not knowing his name, Goldie decided, glancing up as a soccer player ran straight past him, close enough that Goldie could feel the sleeve of her shirt graze against his fur.

Deciding he could ponder on it later when he _wasn’t_ in the path of several student athletes, he shoved the thought of names and his science partner aside and concentrated on _not_ getting mowed down.

The fact remained, though, that the name _Evans_ was familiar, and he had a feeling he hadn’t _quite_ hit the nail on the head.

He was close, though.

* * *

The rabbit next to him sat up as the bell rang, and Goldie glanced over at him with a frown. Salvage looked utterly exhausted, to say the least, and Goldie didn’t even think it was from lack of sleep or physical exertion.

To be honest, he hadn’t been _too_ surprised to see them in the classroom, despite them having been missing from gym. To be honest, even at a glance they didn’t look like they were okay to even be at school in the first place. However, knowing that it would be unwelcome, Goldie kept his opinion to himself, instead pulling his homework out as Dr. Schmidt chipperly called, “Alright, class! Homework!”

He turned around, already knowing the _pass it to the front_ drill. For some reason, he mused, teachers did _not_ like walking around to collect papers.

Before Freddy could hand his packet forward, there was a sharp intake of breath just to Freddy’s right. Goldie furrowed his brow and glanced towards Fischbach, wondering what could have elicited such a reaction from the bear, and he almost immediately noticed the dark red stain.

It took a moment for the stain to register in Goldie’s mind, but when it did his eyes widened- because the bear’s homework was stained, and it looked a hell of a lot like _blood._

Fischbach’s eyes flicked over to them and quickly turned back to Salvage. He muttered something that sounded a lot like “ketchup” to his friend as he passed it forward. Goldie watched as Salvage slid Fischbach’s under his own and passed it Rodriguez.

Goldie turned to look at Freddy again just as his brother turned to look at him. The silent message was clear; _I saw that._

Without saying anything, Freddy passed his packet to Goldie, and Goldie turned around to hand both his and his brother’s to Bonnie’s. He glanced over at Rodriguez but didn’t say anything, watching as Dr. Schmidt paused and really looked at the rabbit.

 _Something’s very wrong,_ Goldie thought, turning his gaze away as Bonnie faced forward. Glancing at Salvage, he observed how the rabbit’s left hand gripped his other wrist, his expression troubled. Goldie looked away.

Dr. Schmidt set the homework on his desk to look at later. “Now that we’ve got the homework out of the way, let’s talk about your first lab,” he started, but Goldie didn’t _want_ to talk about the first lab. It was just a reminder that everything he _thought_ he knew was being ripped to shred.

_I think I understand Jan J a little better now..._

Shoving the thought aside, he pulled out his notebook, flipped it open and began drawing mindless circles on the page.

Foxy jokingly called it a _coping mechanism for overthinking._ Freddy called it a habit. Goldie called it calming. He wasn’t anxious or even panicky- he wasn’t exactly prone to panic attacks as he had determined his new science partner to be- but he did get... _squeamish_ feelings. He did get nervous, uncomfortable and sometimes he couldn’t stop thinking, making him feel even _worse._

This was one of those moments.

The circles helped. They were mindless, repetitive, and when arranged correctly they were visually pleasing. Beautiful, even. Already he could feel the twisting in his stomach fading as he concentrated on the circles- some quick and rough, some slow and smooth, some misshapen, some perfect, some overlapping, some isolated, some swirling into a vortex...

Then a phone vibrated, breaking him out of his calming reverie. His pencil skid across the page, leaving a sharp, dark line, and he turned to look at Salvage in time to watch the rabbit lower his phone down by his thigh, out of sight. The rabbit didn’t even hesitate to raise his hand, interrupting the instructor mid-sentence.

Dr. Schmidt didn’t seem annoyed as he said, “Yes, Mr. Salvage?”

“May I step out for a moment?” the golden rabbit requested, his voice somewhat meek. It only served to remind Goldie that Salvage was suffering somehow.

“Of course,” was the answer he got, and before Goldie could even register what was happening the rabbit was out the door. He blinked, watching the door in both confusion and curiosity.

The small window was uncovered, which was odd for a classroom, and through it he could see Salvage step away from the door, phone pressed to his ear.

The rabbit walked out of the view of the window, but then he re-entered- and then he was gone again. _He’s pacing,_ Goldie realized, watching the rabbit walk back and forth in the hallway, his expression tight. Then suddenly he stopped and leaned against the wall on the other side of the hall, and after a few moments he slid down to the ground, closing his eyes.

Salvage ran a hand over his face. Whatever was going on clearly wasn’t good, Goldie realized; his classmate said something to whoever was on the other side and lowered his phone, supposedly hitting _end call._ Then the rabbit took a breath and stood up again, walking towards the door.

Goldie averted his gaze just before the door opened, and he watched the rabbit approach the Doctor. Salvage’s words were hushed and Dr. Schmidt was understanding, simply handing over a packet and a worksheet and telling him to have it finished by Friday.

_An arrangement. Schmidt already knows what’s happening..._

Then the rabbit returned to his desk, muttering something to Rodriguez on the way... but instead of sitting down he began packing up his things. Goldie simply watched him as he stood up.

“See you guys after school,” Salvage directed quietly to his friends before heading back to the door. Goldie watched him until the door clicked shut behind him.

Class resumed but Goldie’s heart just wasn’t in it. He looked down at his page of circles and one dark, stark line, breaking up the smooth transition of circles and swirls. He thought about trying to erase the line, to try and salvage the page of circles, and he turned his pencil over to do just that- but then something _new_ hit him. He stilled, eraser hovering just above the dark line.

_Salvage._

The line was a mistake- a flaw- marring something that was otherwise perfect- beautiful, even. It was stress, it was a scar, it was imperfect, and somehow that line turned something so orderly and methodical into something... chaotic. Unsorted. Confusing.

Complicated.

But it didn’t take away the quality of the circles, he realized. The circles were still the same underneath that line; they were still there. They were still beautiful, they were still perfect... but only if he looked past that scar. If he accepted the scar rather than detested it, if he viewed it as _part_ of it instead of a mistake, he could still see the beauty lying on the page.

His heart suddenly picked up its pace as an idea formed in his mind. He stared at that line- at that _scar._ He stared at it and he considered it. It planted a new seed, a new... opinion, of sorts. It made him realize something- made him _understand_ something. Something that he had never thought before.

The line was ugly and it marred something beautiful, but that didn’t make that something any less so. The scar was just one part- not the whole... but it _was_ part of it, and once he accepted that...

It made the rest shine so much brighter.

He stared at it. He considered it.

And he left it.

* * *

It nagged at his mind almost as incessantly as Salvage’s name had, but this time he felt... oddly calm about it, even with the silence hanging over him and his friends.

He wasn’t _quite_ sure yet what idea was growing in his mind, but whatever idea it was felt almost... exciting? _No, not exciting. I feel too calm for that. It’s... peaceful, then?_ Whatever it was, Goldie liked it and didn’t at the same time. He felt like he was about to figure something out- something that was _probably_ obvious but at the same time completely new to him.

It was important.

However, he wasn’t allowed to his thoughts very long. As soon as the crowd had dispersed, Foxy started, “So, Bonnie... Mind telling us what that was all about?”

Goldie was briefly confused, but as Bonnie asked “What?” he realized what Foxy meant.

“During science,” Foxy elaborated, and Goldie glanced at Bonnie. He wanted to know, too, and Bonnie had been hardly three feet from them; there was no doubt whatsoever that he had been able to hear the entire conversation.

“Oh,” the rabbit mumbled, glancing aside with a thoughtful frown. He looked... somewhat conflicted. Goldie had a feeling he wasn’t going to divulge everything he had heard. “He apparently had a family emergency and had to go pick someone up,” the purple rabbit answered with a shrug. “Apparently it was an hour away, so there was no way he would make it back to school for the rest of classes.”

Goldie frowned, unsure of what to think about that. Briefly, he remembered something Salvage had said that first day... about being unable to meet before five PM... _An hour there, four PM, an hour back, five PM..._

“It sounded like he already had an arrangement with the school,” Bonnie suddenly continued, pulling Goldie out of his thoughts. “Dr. Schmidt looked and sounded like he already knew what was going on the moment he saw Salvage’s hand.”

“He was holding his phone,” Goldie informed his friends, glancing at the group of junior-varsity players they passed. He felt somewhat... uneasy, talking about this out in the open. He wondered if that was how Salvage felt. “I heard it vibrate but he had it out of sight before I could actually _see_ it.”

“So Salvage had to leave for a family emergency,” Chica summed up with a soft hum. “That makes sense. But what was up with y’all at the very start? Freddy, ya looked like someone just keeled over and died right in front of ya.”

Goldie and Freddy didn’t even look at each other as they both snorted and said in unison, “Might as well have.” Goldie unlocked the vehicle’s doors and glanced up at his twin, frowning slightly as Freddy scanned their surroundings. The image reminded him of Salvage and Salvage's friends... all of whom commonly looked around before leaning in and whispering. It was a well-known trait of "Springtrap" Salvage's group, one that had for the longest time been taken as a sign of _us_ versus _them._

_Maybe it is._

When Freddy spoke again, his voice was too soft to carry far. “There was a bloodstain on Fischbach’s homework. Tried to excuse it as ketchup.”

Freddy had clearly been about to say something but whatever he had been about to add was silenced as laughter began approaching, and Goldie glanced towards the approaching junior-varsity players. Clearing his throat to get the others’ attention, he opened his door and gestured inside.

“I don’t think a parking lot is the best place for this conversation,” he told them before sliding into the driver’s seat, Freddy climbing in next to him. He glanced in the rearview mirror to watch their friends take their favoured spots in the back; Bonnie behind Freddy, Chica behind himself, and Foxy on the back seat. The fox was sitting center instead of by a window, Goldie noticed before saying, “Anyone could overhear us out there, ya know.”

“Yeah,” Bonnie agreed as he buckled his seatbelt. Once everyone was properly belted up, Goldie started the ignition. However, if the subject was to be dropped, Bonnie apparently didn’t get the memo.

Not that Goldie assumed the conversation was over... that was why they were leaving immediately rather than sticking around to hang, after all.

“So Salvage had to run out in the middle of class, Fischbach’s homework was bloodstained, and Rodriguez had a big ugly bruise on his face,” Bonnie summarized, his tone somewhat bitter as Goldie pulled out of the parking space, keeping an eye out for other students. “Anything up with Kain and Blanc today?”

“Blanc wouldn’t sit still,” Foxy answered, and Goldie could practically _hear_ his scowl. “They were really out of it, too. Only tuned in long enough to watch Salvage leave and went right back to starin’ out the window.”

“Kain didn’t do much,” Chica informed them, her tone somewhat thoughtful, somewhat dismissive. “Kinda just sat there, starin’ at her desk. Seemed tense but nothin’ really _off,_ per se.”

Freddy heaved a sigh and Goldie frowned, briefly glancing over at his brother as he pulled up to the outlet, waiting for his turn to pull out onto the main road. “Still think there’s a chance we’re misunderstandin’ the situation?” Freddy questioned, though he didn’t look at any of them.

Goldie’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, whatever sense of calm and peace his circles- _and scar-_ had given him fleeing suddenly. No one gave Freddy an answer, but Goldie knew he _was_ honestly seeking one; it wasn’t a rhetorical question.

Pulling out onto the road, Goldie considered his brother’s words. It was true, absolutely undeniable that _something_ was going on... but there was still no way to know _what._ “There’s always a chance,” he finally answered after several more moments of silence. Even he could hear the doubt in his tone, because... well... “But I don’t think we are... not anymore, anyway...”

He had that same feeling he had when he realized Salvage’s name had been Evans almost the entire time he had even distantly known him. Twisting in his gut, feeling rather low because really... twelve years, it should have been obvious.

Absently, he rubbed circles onto the steering wheel.

“I don’t think we know _exactly_ what’s going on,” Chica finally added her two cents after several more tense seconds of silence. Goldie kept his eyes on the road. “I honestly don’t think there’s one flat answer to this, guys. Somethin’s goin’ on but I just don’t think we have the full story.”

“It’s only the third day of school,” Bonnie pointed out before adding, “The third day we’re actually paying any attention, anyway.”

That was an important factor... because it wasn’t the third day of school, it was the thirteenth _year_. He frowned, a dull-eyed child staring at the camera flashing across his mind. _Twelve years and it was so obvious from the very start..._

“We’re bound to notice something if there’s anything else,” Chica finished, and all Goldie could do was nod despite the fact that _we should have noticed years ago when it was as obvious as a slap in the face._

There was a brief silence, and then Freddy hesitantly spoke up again. “Maybe,” his brother started slowly, “we should talk to them about it?”

“What?!” Foxy practically shrieked, but Goldie didn’t feel that same disbelief.

_Circles and scars. You don’t have to get rid of the scar to see the circles... you just have to accept it... embrace it as part of it all._

_"Talk_ to them about it?” Foxy continued, drawing Goldie back into the moment. “Are you _crazy,_ Fazbear?! It’s one thing watchin’ ‘em from a distance but actually gettin’ _involved-_ at that point we might as well just call the cops!”

Goldie glanced towards the rearview mirror, unimpressed. “We can’t,” he deadpanned, watching Foxy’s gaze snap to him. He looked back to the road in time for the red light to turn green, and he turned left. “We’re on unfamiliar ground, Foxy. Besides, I don’t think you call up the cops to say “I think one of my classmates is gettin’ knocked around” or somethin’.” _Especially without evidence._

“The CPS,” Chica suggested, her tone clearly stating she knew that that wouldn’t work either.

It was Bonnie who pointed out the problem there. “They _usually_ give prior warning,” the rabbit explained rather shortly. “They’re not good at hidin’ it but I get the feelin’ they’re damn good at hidin’ the _tracks_.”

Goldie chose not to point out that there was no guarantee the CPS could do anything; it was entirely possible that the parents had nothing to do with what was going on, after all.

“Then what _can_ we do? We _can’t_ talk to them,” Foxy insisted.

 _“Foxy’s gettin’ to ya. If anyone is ever in a situation like... what those five_ might _be, then it’s important for anyone... to help them if they need it.”_

Freddy’s words from the night before suddenly flashed through his mind, and just like that... Goldie knew what was _really_ nagging at him. He knew what needed to be done.

Talking to them was the _only_ way.

“One, we don’t like them. Two, they don’t like us. Three, we _still_ don’t know what the hell’s goin’ on,” Foxy finished off, a strange tone to his voice that Goldie couldn’t identify.

Although he disagreed with Foxy, their vulpine friend had a point; Salvage and his friends didn’t like them at all, and Goldie and the “Fazcrew” weren’t 100% sure about anything.

They never would be if they didn’t try, though.

“It wouldn’t kill us to be more friendly towards them,” Freddy replied, his somewhat-harsh tone almost surprising Goldie.

Almost.

“Besides,” Freddy continued, his voice turning almost dangerous, _“I_ don’t dislike them, _I’ve_ always been neutral on this subject. The only reason _they_ don’t like _us_ is because you lot all started actin’ aggressive towards them. I clearly remember them bein’ neutral about us until they finally noticed.”

_Ah._

Before anyone could say anything, Chica, the ever sensible one, cut in with, “Arguin’ won’t do us any good.” Then she added, “How about this, let’s compromise.”

“Compromise?” Bonnie repeated, and Goldie could tell in that moment that no compromise would be met. He kept his eyes on the road. “What’s there to _compromise_ about? Someone’s gettin’ hurt, when someone’s hurt you fucking _help_ them, whether you like them or not!”

_Exactly what Freddy told me last night._

“Has it occurred to you that the best way to _help_ may be to _not_ get involved?” Chica directed towards the rabbit, calm as ever. Goldie didn’t know how _not_ getting involved would help, though; what if things took a turn for the worst? “They’re always together,” Chica continued, either oblivious or uncaring towards the heavy, disbelieving air hanging over her friends, “clearly they’re just as close as us five are. They don’t need us when they have each other.”

Goldie still didn’t speak as he pulled into the residential neighborhood he and his family lived in.

“Oh yeah,” Bonnie snorted derisively, but when he spoke again his tone was chipper and _very_ sarcastic. “Yeah, let Rodriguez rely on Fischbach, both of whom have _bled_ in the last three days. Or better yet, let them rely on Blanc- the kid who barely pays any attention to where they’re going. Or Salvage, who’s apparently having family problems and is having to play the role of _parent_ already.”

Furrowing his brow, Goldie shared a look with Freddy. _Play the role of parent?_ Briefly, Goldie thought about Mimi Evans. He didn’t get a chance to ask, however, as Bonnie continued on, his tone turning harsh again.

“Their foundation is unstable, Chica. Face it.” Goldie didn’t attempt to refute it, remembering the silence hanging over the group of friends as they walked into the classroom.

Remembering the way the golden rabbit slid to the ground, back pressed against the wall, and hid his face behind a hand.

Remembered the way Salvage desperately looked to his friends for comfort and assurance that first day of school.

“What happens to houses built on unstable foundations?” Bonnie questioned, but he didn’t give them a chance to answer. “They _collapse._ ”

“These are people, Bonnie, not houses-”

“What happens if Rodriguez gets killed, Chica?” Bonnie interrupted the chicken, his words blunt. He wasn't sugarcoating his opinions at all. “Or Fischbach- or _any_ of them?” Goldie didn’t want to think about that. “What then? If it takes all _five_ of them to be an _unstable_ foundation, what happens when _one_ of them falls? They _all_ fall, that’s what!”

The implication chilled Goldie to the bone as he pulled onto their street. It was a dark implication, a downright _frightening_ implication.

If one falls, they all fall.

If one dies, they all die.

Desperately, he shoved that thought aside.

“You don’t know that,” Foxy protested quietly- and Goldie knew he, too, didn’t want to consider it. “You’re suggestin’ things again, Bonnie. Things that might not be true at all.”

Finally, Goldie spoke up as he pulled into the driveway. “They’re troubled,” he started, “but they’re not... _that_ troubled, are they?” He glanced into the rearview mirror, hoping someone could tell him nothing was as bad as it seemed.

“That’s what we need to find out,” Freddy answered, his voice soft. “The simple fact of the matter is _we don’t know._ And that’s a problem.”

_Why are you always right, little brother..._

Putting the van in park and turning off the ignition, Goldie turned to face his twin. Freddy was scanning over each of them, and Goldie just _knew_ Freddy had decided something.

Something that he would do... with or without them.

_Everything changes now._

Goldie already knew, though. He already knew what decision his brother had come to- because he had already come to that same decision himself.

The decision to not stand by and watch.

“I don’t know about you,” Freddy started slowly, eyes scanning over each of them, “but I don’t want to keep being one more crack in their foundation. If their foundation, as Bonnie is suggesting, is unstable and _breaking_...” he trailed off, as if really considering his next words.

Steeling his resolve, Freddy said, “I don’t want to be the thing that breaks it.” Then he was out the door and up the front walkway, leaving them in a heavy silence.

Freddy had made his decision, and Goldie knew he and Bonnie had, too. That very same decision.

He wasn’t sure if Chica and Foxy had. Neither of them said anything, even as Bonnie uttered, “I don’t either,” and exited the van, following Freddy to the house.

The only way to know for sure what was happening and not jump to conclusions was to actually _talk_ to them, and to _talk_ to them meant leaving behind everything they had ever thought about their science partners.

With a soft sigh, he pulled the key out and opened his door. He wasn’t willing to just stand by and watch their classmates “fall,” and on some level he just _knew_ that Chica and Foxy weren’t either.

_Circles and lines... it’s all circles and lines. Now we can finally figure out what’s really under the scars._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise Goldie's little habit there isn't random, it's actually something I used to do. And it will make its appearance in future chapters, too, it's not something that I'll only mention once and then never bring up again.
> 
> Also, even though it should be obvious, if you suspect someone is being abused, don't do what these five are doing. Seriously, report your suspicions to someone who can do something. Even if they're just suspicions and it turns out nothing is wrong, doing what these five are doing in this story is NOT the way to go about it. Be there for them but seriously, just... seriously.


	7. The Storm's Beginning, Spring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO FUNNY STORY this was supposed to be posted with all of the others and silly ol' me FORGOT TO HIT SUBMIT CHAPTER. Yeah I am really sorry about that but here it is!

He was standing in his bathroom, medicine in hand, when the terrified shriek echoed through the house.

Eyes widening, the golden rabbit didn’t hesitate to drop both the pills and the bottle onto the counter as he bolted out of the room and down the carpeted hallway, past the broken grandfather clock sitting in a nook and to the bedroom on the right side of the green-curtained windows. The door, cracked open slightly, offered no resistance as he stumbled through it, hurrying over to the screaming child lying in his bed.

Dropping down next to the bed, he reached out to Plushie. It was just a nightmare; the kit was awake already, but his eyes were tightly closed and the surrounding fur was matted from the child’s tears.

Spring hated seeing his brother this way.

“Plushie!” he called, carefully laying his hand on the rabbit kit’s shoulder. He didn’t dare apply too much pressure; the last thing his brother needed was the feeling of being held down to add to his terror. “Plushie, it’s okay, I’m here…!”

It wasn’t unusual for Plushie to wake this way. Spring was used to it. He was used to being woken up in the middle of the night or in the early morning by the child’s screams- it was why he kept the door cracked open, why he chose the bedroom directly across from Plushie’s. Every nightmare he was there to comfort the crying kit, to hold him and just let him know that he was safe- that big brother was there, that nothing would hurt him.

He _wasn’t_ used to the little rabbit’s eyes snapping open, and he _wasn’t_ used the the child practically throwing himself at him, his screaming morphing into choking wails as he latched onto the older rabbit’s shoulders.

Blinking, Spring gently wrapped his arms around Plushie and carefully slipped him out of the bed and onto his lap, pulling him close. Stroking the soft fur of Plushie’s ears, he allowed the golden kit to bury his face against the recently-dried fur on his chest. He didn’t even care that he’d only just gotten the thick tangle of fur dry; Plushie was _much_ more important than grooming, anyway.

“It’s alright,” he spoke softly, gently, as he continued stroking his little brother’s ears. It was a comforting gesture that Mimi had always used for Spring, back when he himself suffered frequent nightmares, and Spring hadn’t even noticed he did the same for Plushie until Mimi commented on it. It just seemed natural and it always helped. Even now the child’s wails were tapering off into choked sobs. “Don’t worry, Plushie, everything’s okay, you’re okay...”

Soon enough his sobs faded into whimpers. Loosening his hold on the kit, Spring leaned back so he could look down at his brother. “Which one was it this time?” he asked gently, concerned. He needed to know- different things helped different nightmares, after all.

Sniffling, the small rabbit looked up at him. His eyes looked red and puffy and the fur of his face was matted. “The nightmare man...”

Plushie gave a small cough and Spring’s ears twitched. _The nightmare man._

He had never told Plushie that man’s identity. They only called him the nightmare man. He didn't want Plushie to know that that man was real... that his dreams weren't just dreams...

_Plushie’s father. That piece of garbage- gone for four years and still affecting him... god dammit..._

“Come on,” he started, keeping his voice gentle despite the twisting ball of anger in his stomach. “Let’s get you cleaned up and we’ll have pancakes.” He sighed softly as he stood up, rabbit still in his arms, and adjusted his hold on the kit so he was supported better. Plushie still clung to him, seeking the comfort Spring offered. “I’ll call the school, let them know you’re not go-”

“No!” the kit protested. Spring looked at him, blinking in surprise. “Please, Springy, I-I wanna go,” he begged, more tears slipping through his stained fur. “Please don’t make me stay home, I-I’ll be good...!”

“Plushie...” Spring breathed in deeply through his nose and headed towards the bathroom- not _his_ bathroom, though. He never took Plushie in there. Not since... well...

Plushie didn’t like that bathroom anymore.

“You know you’re likely to have another nightmare...” Spring told him, setting him down on the floor before he began filling the tub with water. It was too early for Plushie to begin getting ready for school but there was no way the kit would be getting back to sleep. “Isn’t it better if both of us just stay home rather than both of us having to leave in the middle of school? And if you have a nightmare during school, I won’t be able to get there until at least an hour... I really don’t think you should go.”

“Please, Springy,” Plushie pleaded. Ready to tell him “no,” Spring turned back to look at his brother.

As it turned out, that was his mistake. He paused, seeing the way his brother was watching him. His silvery-green eyes were large, sad and pleading, and silent tears were still running down his cheek. Just the sight of it broke Spring’s heart- because he could remember years ago when we wore a similar expression, begging Mrs. Marks to let _him_ go to school... so he could see his friends.

So he wouldn’t feel alone.

_Is Plushie lonely?_

Just the _thought_ of it made Spring’s heart hurt. He had always known, of course, that siblings were never enough. They were brothers... actually, they were more like guardian and charge.

(He didn’t dare think _father and son;_ he didn’t know the first thing about being a father, after all- he was only seventeen.)

Of course he cared, but Spring had a responsibility to him. One person wasn’t enough to chase off the loneliness.

Spring always went to school, no matter how he felt or how hurt he was, because he had four amazing friends who needed him and whom he needed. How could he deny Plushie that right, too?

So, against his better judgment, Spring sighed and turned back to the water filling the tub. “Alright,” he agreed quietly, knowing already that he was making a mistake. “You can go to school.”

“Thank you, Springy...” The kit’s voice held no excitement, only relief. It wasn’t the first time Spring had ever heard that tone.

Spring closed his eyes.

_He’s too much like me._

(It wasn’t until he was halfway to Chii’s house to pick the others up that he remembered the medicine, left abandoned and forgotten on his bathroom counter.)

* * *

He had known something was wrong the moment he pulled up next to Chii’s house. They were all silent and Blu was sporting a _very_ visible bruise on his cheek, but as they climbed into the car he didn’t ask.

It remained silent; even their “good morning” seemed to be buried underneath the tension. Spring wasn’t ready to talk about anything, though; it was too early, too tense, too uncomfortable.

No one else spoke up either.

They didn’t go to their before-school practice and Spring couldn’t concentrate at all throughout history- something or other about Mongolians? He wasn’t sure.

When gym came about, none of them said anything; they simply made their way behind the gymnasium while no one was watching and took a seat on the ground.

The gymnasium was separated from the rest of the school, situated just yards away from the woods’ treeline. Behind the gymnasium, right beside that treeline and out of sight of the school building and the sports fields, was where they would go if they ever needed _time-_ time away from the crowds of school, time away from classes, time to themselves...

More than that, it was where they would go when they were in no state to attend a certain class.

Case in point; physical education.

Spring let himself fall heavily to the ground directly across from Blu, his back to the woods, and Alfred sat down on his right. Chii and Mangle both sat down on either side of Blu. As they all settled down as comfortably as they could get at the moment, Spring directed his gaze towards Blu, frowning in concern.

_Time to talk about it, now that we’re alone..._

“What happened last night, Blu?” he asked, keeping his voice gentle. Blu’s eyes barely flicked up to him as he sighed.

The blue rabbit didn’t lift his gaze from the grass as he answered, “Mother barged into my bedroom, yelled some, threw a wooden bowl at my head and then hit me.” Spring’s heart fell at those words and he let his own gaze fall, realizing that Blu was even worse off than he appeared. “On the bright side, no blood last night. Just a horrible headache and I ache everywhere, but I’ll be fine when I get some sleep.”

Spring let out a silent sigh and shared a look with his friends. _Blu, it’s not that simple._

“When was the last time you slept?” Mangle questioned, worried, as they watched their friend.

Blu gave a small shrug before saying, “Uh, yesterday at Spring’s house.” Spring frowned sharply; Blu had been asleep for all of twenty minutes, that wasn’t nearly enough to even be considered sleep, really.

“No, _real_ sleep. Like... a full night’s sleep. Dreams and all,” Mangle clarified, frowning at Blu. Spring didn’t like where this conversation was going.

“Ah, um,” the rabbit hummed, frowning slightly himself. He seemed to be considering the answer, and that made Spring _very_ worried. “Saturday night I think?”

Spring’s ears flattened as Chii gasped, staring at their friend in horror. “You need to sleep! That’s not good for you, you could pass out!”

Blu glanced up towards the sky, as if avoiding eye contact, and told them, “I’ll sleep tonight, even if I have to go to the old fort.”

Furrowing his brow, Spring frowned at Blu. _The old fort? Why are you bringing that place up? Please tell me you haven’t been going there..._ “The old fort? We haven’t been there in nearly six years, Blu, it’s a death trap now...” Blu’s eyes flicked to the side, guilt flashing through them, and Spring felt his heart fall. “Oh my god, _please_ tell me you haven’t been running off there by yourself, Blu...”

Images flashed through his mind; the fort’s old floor collapsing, Blu falling the twelve or so feet to the ground below, the old rope ladder snapping under the blue rabbit’s light weight, Blu cutting his hand on the wood and getting some fatal disease, an animal curled up in the corner, the supports breaking... _Oh god oh god anything could have happened..._

Apparently Blu realized he hadn’t said the right thing, as he quickly tried to backpedal, saying, “It’s not often! J-just when I can’t stand staying home and, I just- I don’t want to bother you guys all of the time...”

_Bother?! You’re never a bother! Never!_

“Blu, you know you can always come to my house,” Spring told him, feeling almost desperate to make his youngest friend understand. He knew sometimes his friends felt like they were taking advantage of him, but the truth was Spring just didn’t care about the money or time his friends spent hiding out in his large house. They were his best friends and the only thing he cared about was that they were safe. They were all so important to him. _Oh god, what would I do if I lost you?!_ “Anything could have happened at that old treehouse, Blu- you could have fallen through the floor and broken your neck and we wouldn’t have even _thought_ to look there for you...!”

Spring flinched as a hand landed on his shoulder, and he glanced to his right towards Alfred. The bear was watching him, his expression mostly calm but a spark in his eye told Spring that he was one step away from freaking out on the rabbit himself.

“Spring,” Alfred started gently, a hint of warning in his voice. “He’s fine.”

He wasn’t ready to let it go. “But anything could have happened,” he protested, but Alfred shook his head. Clearly he wasn’t hearing any of it.

_No excuse,_ that headshake said. _Calm down,_ it said. _Don’t panic._

“But it didn’t,” Alfred declared with finality, shutting down any other protests Spring might have had. Spring looked away as Alfred turned to Blu and said, “But it would... be... best to... not go there.”

Turning back to look at Blu, Spring took in the view of his younger friend, ears lowered and looking absolutely miserable. Any scolding that he might have done quickly faded.

He felt so tired...

“Next time please come to me instead,” the golden rabbit said, and to be honest at that moment he wouldn’t be opposed to begging. He didn’t want his friend getting hurt. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. I don’t care if it’s one in the morning, just don’t go _there_ again.”

Blu simply nodded, and Spring wasn’t sure if he should really believe him. However, Blu was one of his best- and only- friends in the entire world, so he tried to have faith in that simple nod.

“How are all of you holding up?” the blue rabbit asked, glancing around at all of them. The question had an instant reaction from everyone.

His ears almost immediately flopping down, Spring watched as Chii crossed her shins, one over the other, and Mangle looked away, their hands falling to their thighs. A glance towards Alfred showed that the bear’s eyes had immediately fallen to the ground.

It seemed the general consensus was _not good._

When no one else spoke, Spring broke the silence, saying, “I, uh, forgot to take my medicine this morning...” Seeing the way his friends looked at him, he explained, “Plushie had the nightmare man dream again.”

They would understand. All of them had met “the nightmare man” before, and all of them knew _exactly_ what he had done. There was no doubt in Spring’s mind that half the reason he turned out the way he did was because of the nightmare man. The other half was simply the way he was raised... and possibly genetics.

He didn’t like thinking about that part, though.

Upon noticing that his hand had instinctively lifted to rub at his chest, where underneath his shirt and covered by a layer of fluff hid a large, jagged scar, he clenched his teeth and let his hand fall back into his lap.

_Seems like Plushie’s not the only one of us affected, after all... I wonder if Mimi is too... maybe I should ask her when she comes back next weekend._

The new silence was broken by Chii, whose voice wavered somewhat uneasily as she told them, “Charlie came into my room again.” The chicken looked down in her lap, and Spring wanted so badly to hug her... but he knew the contact would not be welcome right then. Not from him or any of the others. “Tried to... I... it doesn’t matter,” she cut off, refusing to look up at any of them.

She looked so ashamed, but she had nothing to be ashamed of. It wasn’t her fault. _If anything,_ Spring thought miserably, _I should be ashamed for not doing anything._ But what _could_ he possibly do? _Nothing, that’s what..._

After all, adults could _not_ be trusted. _Especially_ adults in authority.

“My parents got mad when I tried to... _refuse,”_ Mangle informed them, their voice hardly above a whisper. They stared at the ground, for the first time in a long time seeming to be completely grounded in the reality of the moment. “Grabbed the switch and... well, I won’t be wearing shorts for a while.”

Spring’s heart hurt for his friends. He understood what Mangle meant, and he understood what Chii meant.

He couldn’t help but feel so pathetic at that moment; he, with his family fortune and close sibling bonds, was just as miserable as the friends who had endured nearly eighteen years of blood, pain, humiliation, and other unimaginable things... his problems were over now, _what right do I have to be so damn miserable?! I don’t even deserve to be unhappy, I’m so fortunate and I never go without anything but sleep- why do they even like me? I’m just some spoiled rich kid... damn, I don’t even deserve their friendship..._

Before he could drown in his thoughts any longer, Alfred found his voice. “Dad hit me with a bottle again. In the back and shoulder.” As if to emphasize this fact- though Spring knew it was because he didn’t have the words to really explain it- he rolled the sleeve of his shirt up, showing them the bloody bandage. Spring wondered how he even got it on by himself, but Alfred was nothing if not determined... “It… wasn’t close to empty,” he added, glancing at them.

His words made Spring feel conflicted; on the one hand, it just proved that Spring’s problems were trivial- _at least I’m not attending school with an open wound and a bandage I had to apply myself-_ but on the other, it reminded Spring that he _did_ have an important role with his friends.

He could offer them an escape and help them when they couldn’t help themselves.

“Don’t think I got all the glass out,” Alfred continued, rolling his sleeve back down. Spring frowned. “Won’t stop bleeding.”

Blu sighed and leaned his head against his knees. “Jesus Christ, why is it always this way...” There was nothing they could really say. There just wasn’t an answer to give him.

Turning to Alfred, Spring said, “I’ll check for glass for you.” Alfred just looked at him and shook his head slightly, making the golden rabbit frown. It was clear he needed help.

“Not now,” the bear told him. “Later.” And Spring understood.

Later, when they were back at Spring’s house, in the privacy of Spring’s bathroom with no prying eyes potentially peeking around corners. Where they felt somewhat safe, when they were alone, when there was no risk of being seen.

He just nodded and turned to look at his friends, frowning. All of them were hurting in some way- Alfred and Mangle physically, Chii mentally, and Blu both- but he knew he could offer them a safe place to go to.

_They should stay tonight... I don’t think any of us should be alone._

He watched as Blu suddenly sat up and declared, “Well, I think all of us deserve a lazy afternoon.”

Immediately, Spring warned him, “We’re not skipping the rest of school.” Though skipping the rest of school sounded pretty good at the moment... “We need to save our days for big emergencies.” Blu just shot him a grin, but even through the hint of humour Spring could see the utter exhaustion in his face.

“I actually meant _after_ school,” Blu told him, clearly amused. “Come on, we have art in the afternoon, like I’m gonna suggest skipping out on that.” The blue rabbit pulled his phone out, glancing at the time. “Then again I might just crash right after school...”

“If you make it to after school,” Mangle sighed, concern clear in their eyes. “Honestly, maybe you should check out...”

“And go where?” Blu asked rhetorically, leaning back against the gymnasium wall. “Besides, I can’t even check myself out, I’m not eighteen. Can’t go to the nurse, she’ll call my parents...”

_And_ that _would be an utter disaster._

They fell silent, simply enjoying each other’s company. At least, enjoying it as much as they could. It was nice to just be... together.

Too bad it was just a single moment in time.

* * *

Class was initially very uneventful. Spring didn’t fail to notice how the Fazcrew fell into silence the moment they stepped into the room, undoubtedly taking in their presence in the class- or, maybe, their lack of presence in the class before.

The bell rang, prompting Spring to sit up. He watched as Dr. Schmidt stood up and clapped his hands together, a grin in place. It was in direct contrast to how Spring was feeling at that moment, and deep down he could feel a stirring of irritation and resentment,.

“Alright, class! Homework!” the instructor chipperly commanded, and Spring frowned as he turned and began rifling through his bag, easily locating the desired packet. He sat the packet on his desk, barely getting a chance to glance over the problems, when a soft, but sharp, gasp from behind him caught his attention.

Immediately, Alfred’s wound came to mind- _oh god is he hurt worse than we thought?_ Quickly, he turned around in his desk to face his friend, worried, but his friend wasn’t holding his shoulder or anything. No, his eyes were firmly on the packet in his hand. Spring lowered his gaze to the papers, seeking out what had caused his friend such alarm, and-

He felt cold. There was a very noticeable splotch of dried blood in the corner of the packet. It made Spring feel somewhat sick because-

The Fazbear brothers were watching, he realized as Alfred’s eyes flicked briefly to the side. _Oh god._ Quickly the bear looked back at him and passed the packet forward, muttering just barely loud enough for the bears to hear, “Ketchup.”

It was a lie, of course- not a very good one, either- but it was the standard. They had gotten out of trouble so many times by just claiming one thing or another to a teacher, and no one had called them out on their bluffs yet. _Hopefully that trend will continue._

Taking the packet, Spring turned around and slid it underneath his own, giving Blu a meaningful look as he handed the packets over. He knew Blu understood, watching as Blu turned around and slid his own packet below Alfred’s, effectively hiding their friend’s packet- and its damning evidence- from sight.

_But the Fazbears saw._ Instinctively, he grabbed his right wrist, staring down at his desk. _They saw. If they didn’t think_ something _was going on before, now they definitely will. There’s no way they’ll believe that lie- not with the way they’ve been watching us, the creeps..._

The sound of pencil against paper next to him brought Spring back to reality, and he glanced up. Dr. Schmidt was talking, it seemed- something about observing how steel wool reacts to the fire and what happens after? He wasn’t one hundred percent sure. _Listen, Spring. You need to listen,_ he told himself, barely glancing to his left towards his science partner. Clearly Goldie Fazbear was _not_ listening at all, instead concentrating completely on a sheet of paper where he was just drawing... _circles? And you call_ us _weird._

Spring turned his attention back to the front, anxiously bouncing his leg but careful to not let his heel hit the floor and make a sound. He dug his claws into his wrist and then winced- _I need to trim them, careful Spring._ The rabbit pulled his hand away from his wrist, glancing at the too-long claws that he had been neglecting for a few weeks. _No blood, that’s good I think. Wait- yeah, duh it is. I-_

In his right pocket, his phone began vibrating. He jumped in surprise while, next to him, he could hear Fazbear’s pencil jerk across the page; obviously he had been pulled from his own reverie as well.

Acting quickly, Spring pulled his phone out. _East Preston Academy,_ he read quickly, heart sinking as he lowered it down by his leg and raised his hand. _Plushie..._

“Yes, Mr. Salvage?” Dr. Schmidt questioned, and Spring felt weak. _Hurry, I need to hurry before they hang up._

“May I step out for a moment?” he requested, hoping his voice didn’t sound as shaky as he felt.

“Of course,” Dr. Schmidt nodded, and Spring leapt out of his seat, uncaring of the watchful eyes on his back as he bee-lined for the door. Clicking _answer,_ he put the phone up to his ear as he slipped out of the classroom.

“Hello, this is Spring Salvage,” he greeted immediately, shoving his anxiety aside in favour of concern for his brother. “I-is something wrong?”

“Hello, Mr. Salvage,” the voice greeted. It took Spring a moment to recognize his voice over the phone- it was Mr. Shaf. “We need you to come pick your brother up. He’s with me right now.”

Spring paced in front of the door, nerves twisting in his stomach. “Is he okay?”

“It took his teacher a few minutes to calm him down enough to page me,” Mr. Shaf informed him. Spring closed his eyes. “He had a nightmare during the class nap, but he won’t say anything now.”

_I knew this would happen,_ Spring thought miserably to himself.  _I shouldn't have let him go._ “Can I speak to him please? If he’s not speaking then he’s not actually calm...”

“Very well,” Mr. Shaf agreed, and Spring listened to the shifting as the phone was handed to his little brother. After a few seconds, Spring figured it was in Plushie’s hands.

“Hey, Plushie,” he greeted gently. “Are you okay?”

“No,” the kit whispered through the phone. “Spring, can I come home?”

“Yes, I’ll come get you,” Spring assured him. “I’ll be there in an hour, but I need you to tell me what happened so Mr. Shaf can help you until I get there.”

“It was November,” was the small kit’s answer. “I’m sorry...”

Spring stopped cold and leaned against the wall, sliding down to the ground and closing his eyes. _November._ Of course _November_ would come right after the nightmare man- it always did.

“No, I’m sorry,” Spring murmured. “I knew this would happen... I shouldn’t have let you go like this. Put Mr. Shaf on the phone, Plushie.”

After a few moments, Mr. Shaf’s voice returned with a, “It’s me.”

“Just take him outside for a bit, if the weather permits, Mr. Shaf,” Spring instructed, not opening his eyes. “If it’s storming there, just let him play by himself for a while- I’ll be there in an hour.”

“Alright,” the bear on the other side agreed easily enough. “Is there anything else?”

Spring considered it for a few moments, rubbing a hand over his eyes. _What did I pack in his bag this morning? Apple juice, a... peanut butter and honey sandwich, carrots, and a chocolate pudding, right? That was what he wanted today..._

“Give him the juice in his bag, but not the chocolate. Sweets don’t help him when he gets like this.”

“Understood. See you in an hour, Mr. Salvage.”

“Thank you.”

With that, he hit _end call_ and sat there for a few seconds. _Now to talk to Dr. Schmidt._ With a deep breath, he stood up and made his way back into the classroom, pointedly ignoring the way his classmates all looked at him. He made his way towards the expectant-looking doctor.

“I’m sorry,” he started, keeping his voice soft, then quickly went on to explain, “I need to go pick my brother up, now... it’s an emergency, I won’t be able to make it back before school’s out... it’s an hour away...” He trailed off, unsure of why he had just told the doctor all of that- it was stuff Dr. Schmidt already knew, after all.

Rather than comment on that, though, Dr. Schmidt simply nodded with a, “Very well.” Spring watched as the human walked to his desk and picked up a small packet and a separate worksheet. “I expect these to be done by Friday, Mr. Salvage.”

All Spring could do was nod as he took the papers and scurried back to his desk. He glanced at Blu as he passed and murmured, “I’ll explain later.” Kneeling down next to his bag, he slid the papers in and grabbed his notebook off of his desk, shoving it back into his bag. Swiftly zipping it up, he glanced around at all of his friends, ignoring the way the Fazcrew and the strangers watched him. “See you guys after school,” he added much too quietly for Dr. Schmidt to pick up.

“Good luck,” Alfred returned, just as softly, and Spring gave a small nod, turning and heading out the door.

It would be a long drive, and the thunder outside reminded him that the drive back would be longer.

* * *

The drive home with his friends had fallen silent halfway to Lakeview Road, when they realized that Blu had fallen asleep. The radio was off, allowing all of them to dwell in their own thoughts.

It wasn’t raining anymore- it had been pouring down when Spring and Plushie arrived at their house, but between getting Plushie settled with a game and going to Durmont High to pick his friends up, it had completely stopped.

It was the only good thing to have happened all day.

_“Mr. Salvage, what does your brother mean when he says November was a... bad time in your lives?”_

_“Oh- uh, it’s nothing really. It’s just when my dad died, Mr. Shaf. Plushie internalized my pain, I think, so...”_

_“I understand.”_

Spring resisted the urge to close his eyes, keeping focused on the road. On the one hand, he was glad that Plushie had been able to talk about his dream with Mr. Shaf. On the other hand, he _so_ did not want Plushie to actually explain what happened. If East Preston Academy knew what really happened last November, everything would be compromised.

_“No offense, Mr. Salvage, but perhaps you should take him to a therapist so he can talk about it?”_

_“They’re just dreams, Mr. Shaf. My sister and I used to get them all the time- he’ll grow out of them.”_

_“Your brother’s not you, Mr. Salvage.”_

Spring’s grip tightened on the steering wheel as he turned onto Lakeview Road. _No, he’s not me, and that is a_ damn _good thing. If he was me, you’d really need to be concerned._

Of course, it would have probably helped the matter if they had actually been dreams... not memories. _Plushie’s too young to need therapy, though._ Pulling into the driveway, he just couldn’t be bothered to actually get out of the car to open the gate. Instead, he reached forward to his key knob and hit a little blue button there, and the gate began opening by itself.

It was rare for him to use the automatic system in the gates, but _sometimes_ it came in handy. Like when he felt too tired to get out and back into the car twice within a two minute span to manually open the heavy gate.

_Fuck being rich, I’m tired of this_ stupid goddamn gate _always being in my way._

It wasn’t the gate’s fault it was designed that way, but Spring would have much rather not have to deal with it. When it was open, he drove through, quickly hitting the button again to close it behind them, and he drove up to the front of the house.

He put the car in park and listened as two of the doors opened, Chii and Mangle both slipping out of the right side of the car. Cutting the ignition off, Spring unbuckled his safety belt and slipped out, turning around to open Blu’s door. Inside he could see Alfred holding the sleeping rabbit in place, so that he wouldn’t fall when his belt was removed. Spring opened the door and reached over, hitting the release button, and carefully he picked his younger friend up in his arms, settling him against his chest as he always did with his little brother.

Granted, Blu was larger than Spring’s brother was, being seventeen-going-on-eighteen and not _six,_ but he was small and light enough that it didn’t put too much strain on Spring to carry him.

Briefly it occurred to Spring that Blu was _too_ light.

Spring carried Blu inside, heading towards the living room where he had left Plushie just about twenty minutes earlier. When he reached the room, he saw Plushie had curled up on the smaller couch, hugging one of Spring’s old stuffed animals.

It made his heart hurt, seeing his brother like that, and he laid Blu down on the second couch. The blue rabbit shifted slightly and turned over with a murmur, hiding his face from the light in the room.

Spring let out a soft sigh, watching his friend. His ear twitched as he heard Alfred’s heavier steps on the hardwood floor, and he looked over towards the bear.

“Alfred,” he spoke quietly, getting his friend’s attention. “Let’s get that shoulder taken care of properly.”

His tone left no room for questions. Alfred just nodded in understanding and followed him to Spring’s bathroom. Spring wasn’t really _that_ much of a fool- he knew his friends were uncomfortable in his bathroom, just like his brother was. However, as far as Spring was concerned, it was just a room. It was where he kept everything- his first aid kit, his medicine, his bandages and gauzes, and other miscellaneous supplies included.

Either way, his friend didn’t speak up about his discomfort in the room, so Spring switched the light on. Immediately, his eyes fell on the spilled bottle of pills.

He frowned.

On the one hand, the medicine was important. On another, he hadn’t cleaned the bathroom in a week, and all of the medicine was sitting there on the granite for an entire ten hours, just about.

_I am_ so _not putting those in my mouth now. Gross._

Swiftly sweeping the pills into the trash, he left the now-empty bottle aside. “Guess the next refill’s sooner than my calendar says,” he mumbled, but the lack of response told him that his forced humour fell flat. That was no surprise; it would take a few days for them to actually refill it, after all.

Three days was a long time to not have his medicine, but he would just have to deal.

“Shirt off, Al,” he commanded to the bear, stepping away from the counter to give him room- as if the bathroom didn’t have enough room already. Rather than twist his words, Alfred simply obeyed, tugging his shirt off. When the red fabric fell to the ground, Spring stepped forward to help his friend unwrap the bandages.

They were wound tightly, but the blood seeping slowly through told Spring that it hadn’t been much help. When it completely fell away, though, Spring felt sick- and not just physically.

It didn’t take a genius to know that his friend had been outright attacked, but this...

Alfred’s entire shoulder looked raw, even through his fur. There were deep gashes that looked like they had at least attempted to clot up, and the skin right around the gashes- _the fur’s pulled completely away, my god...-_ looked somewhat inflamed.

“Oh... Alfred...” he mumbled, feeling like he was about to cry. _You’ve been walking around with this all day?_

It was bad. Deep and possibly infected, and the movement all day hadn’t been kind to it in the least; the wound was agitated, and Spring knew the next day Alfred wasn’t likely to be able to move his left arm at all.

_This is out of my league, I... I’m so useless..._ “This...” Spring started, biting his lip.” Maybe you should go to a hospital-”

“No,” Alfred interrupted before he could even finish. Spring glanced at the bear’s reflection to find Alfred’s blue eyes trained on _his_ reflection. “It’s fine. Simple.”

_No it’s not! It’s not fine and it’s not simple!_

“Alfred, you’re still bleeding,” Spring told him, looking back at the wound. “Sure, it’s not _pouring_ blood, but it’s still there, especially now that there’s no pressure, and cleaning this is gonna hurt like hell- and yes, I can see glass...” It was hard to see, but a few small shards were, in fact, embedded in his skin, preventing the wounds from properly closing up. With every move Alfred made, the glass would simply open them again.

“Spring,” Alfred interrupted again, prompting Spring to look into the mirror and meet Alfred’s gaze directly. “No hospitals.”

He wanted to protest, but the intensity with which Alfred stared at him made him feel almost... paralyzed.

_Alfred’s smart... he knows better than to choose pride over what’s right... if he believes in you, Spring, then trust his judgment..._

Besides, hospitals meant questions, and questions meant lying, and lying meant risking getting caught... and getting caught meant separation. _We can’t allow that._

“Right,” he agreed hesitantly, turning away and pulling the bathroom’s closet door open. He began grabbing supplies- to clean the wound and dress it too. “That would bring up questions.”

“Especially after Blu’s been there twice,” Alfred added as Spring returned to the counter. Spring turned the tap on, running water over the rag he had picked up.

“I know,” he said, glancing up at Alfred again. “They’re already suspicious enough as it is.” Spring stepped behind Alfred again and as gently as he could, he began cleaning the wound. He’d need to locate the tweezers to get the glass out, but first he needed to be able to see _all_ of the glass. “Especially the head doctor... I’m sure she’s looking for any excuse to report all of our families after...”

He trailed off. Neither of them finished the thought; both of them knew what he meant. Neither spoke again, allowing Spring to work on Alfred’s wound in silent concentration.

Spring felt heartsick.


	8. For Hate of a Math Class, Goldie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOOK WHAT'S UPDATING OH MY GOD.   
> So being in a stats class I was curious and took the word count from each of these ten chapters. The total words in all ten of these chapters is approximately 52,698 (that's the fuckin' goal on NaNoWriMo!!), the average per chapter is 5,269.8 with a (sample) standard deviation of 476.46 words. What the hell's wrong with me, y'all? My word range is between like 4,500 and 6,000. Jesus christ, no wonder this takes me forever.
> 
> So I'm sorry about the unintentional hiatus, lots of shit happened and school was a bit more stressful than I was expecting, but on the bright side next semester I only have three classes- drawing, painting, and geology! And the next chapter of this will be very, ah... fun |)

Goldie tapped his wrist anxiously, glancing around as they struggled their way through the hallway to their math class, trying to be earlier than they had ever been. It was crowded and loud and no one paid anyone any attention, talking to their friends and bumping shoulders with the students passing by, careless to the people shoving past them.

Sure the bear had always known how the hallways at school were, but he had made a point to never get involved with the hallway rush. He didn’t have a locker _(“Just a waste of time, and besides, we can just change out the books at home, we got homework every night anyways.”)_ so he had no stops to make between classes. All of the others were the same; therefore, they found they could get to class easily once the hallways had cleared up a bit.

That day, however, they were determined to beat Spring Salvage and Salvage’s friends to math- not for any reason other than Goldie and the others just needed to _talk,_ and a quickly-filling music room was not the place to do it. Nor was a crowded hallway.

Then again, it _was_ very loud...

Making a quick decision, he asked, “So, when exactly _are_ we doing this?” It was a valid question; they had all decided, surprisingly unanimously, that they would talk to their partners on a, well, less hostile, more friendly level... but they had never actually said _when, where_ or _how._

“Not at lunch,” Bonnie immediately responded and Goldie had to resist the urge to roll his eyes because _well that’s really_ fucking _obvious, Bonnie._ “Putting them on the spot in front of half the student body would not be a good idea.”

“Yeah,” Goldie agreed, glancing towards the ceiling and letting out a breath. “It’d probably send Salvage into a panic attack.” _Does anxiety come with panic attacks? Or are those called anxiety attacks? I should really do more research about that..._ “Which,” he added, “would instantly earn the others’ hatred forever, I’m sure.”

“Probably, yeah,” Freddy agreed as they dodged around a student just _standing_ there. “But we can’t try in math class, either, since Jeggs, Creol, and Walker are in there, too.”

Goldie frowned slightly, deciding to hold his tongue about those three. He didn’t particularly care for the former two, but the latter- well, Walker was just _infamous_ for being a teacher’s pet who used the teachers’ trust to cause trouble and get off scot-free. Goldie couldn’t remember the amount of perfect-records that guy had ruined with a single claim.

“We could just wait until tomorrow,” Foxy suggested, and Goldie _really_ didn’t want to wait until then. “Y’know, when we have to talk to ‘em one-on-one anyway.” It was a fair point, but that didn’t mean Goldie liked it.

“Or if ya want we could just wait until Monday,” Chica added flatly. “You guys could try in gym.”

_Chica, ya don’t have gym, ya crazy bird, and you’re in on this too y’know._

However, Goldie did consider it _very_ briefly. He didn’t fancy waiting until tomorrow, much less _Monday,_ and he couldn’t help but point out all of the faults.

_Psychology suggests when they’re together, they’ll react in accordance to their group values and norms rather than their individual beliefs. As individuals, they might be more open, but as a group…_ He mentally snorted at the mere thought.

_Ha, as a group they’d probably ignore us. And that’s at best. At worst they’ll be hostile and alert, and it’ll just be bad for all of us..._

“I don’t think approachin’ ‘em as a group- our group or their group or both- is a good idea, actually,” Goldie told them, shaking his head. Next to him, Freddy simply nodded, obviously understanding exactly where Goldie was coming from.

“Why not?” Foxy asked, clearly confused. Goldie tried not to feel irritated; he didn’t exactly explain himself, after all, and Foxy had decided against that social psych course back in sophomore year.

“Well,” he began explaining, looking over towards the fox, “they would probably react to us as a collective but we want ‘em to react as individuals, like they did in Dr. Schmidt’s class that very first day, right?”

“Right...” It was clear to Goldie that he didn’t understand, at least not until it seemed to click in place and his eyes flicked over to Freddy.

It was at that moment, when Foxy’s gaze snapped over to Freddy, that Goldie realized something, too; the group dynamic might not be favourable with Goldie, Foxy, Bonnie, and Chica’s partners, but with Freddy’s it would have been detrimental to their plans.

Alfred Fischbach held a neutral view towards them, but its negative lean partnered with his friends would take that neutrality far into the negatives. _If we approached ‘em when they’re a group, Fischbach will respond accordin’ to his friends._

“So basically, we approach them one-on-one, not as groups,” Chica spoke up finally, an odd, unidentifiable inflection in her words.

“Right,” Goldie confirmed despite knowing that they all understood. Chica seemed to hesitate for a moment, clearly something on her mind, and Goldie (as he dodged around another student) waited for her to speak it; he knew she would.

She began, “Seems a little... predatorial, doesn’t it? I mean, separate them from the pack...” she trailed off, allowing the guys to process her words.

_Separate them from the pack._ It did seem that way. _In fact,_ Goldie mused unhappily, _it’s exactly what we’re doin’. This isn’t exactly what I pictured a predator-prey dynamic bein’._

“It’s either that or let ‘em influence each others’ reactions,” Freddy countered as calmly and level-headed as usual, and Goldie knew he was right. “They’re already suspicious of us, they’ll be on alert even alone- if we approach ‘em as a group or all at the same time it might be seen as some kind of attack and put ‘em on even higher alert.”

_I hate when you’re right, brother, but we already figured that out ourselves._ Well, Goldie had; he wasn’t sure about the other three.

“I feel like we’re makin’ war plans,” Chica started, shaking her head. She was, Goldie could tell, _definitely_ displeased by it. “This is ridiculous, they’re classmates the same age as us, we should be able to just approach them.”

It _was_ ridiculous, Goldie knew. _And we’ve got no one to blame but ourselves for it._

They slipped into the classroom and Goldie, Freddy, and Foxy all took their assigned seats. Bonnie slid into the seat on the other side of Goldie and Chica sat behind him, and they all turned to Foxy who was the relative “center” of the group. They all leaned in, dropping their voices so the human at the front of the room would be unable to hear.

“So not here and not lunch, but you’re determined to try _today?”_ Foxy questioned, his ears barely flicking as the warning bell rang above. “With the way they were actin’ yesterday they might not even come today.”

“They’re here,” Freddy immediately answered, and Goldie glanced over at him. His brother looked absolutely sure. “I saw them this morning in the hall. They seem much more, ah...” the younger bear paused, as if searching for a good way to word it. Goldie waited patiently. “... alive today.”

“We could try in art. There’s not that many people in there,” Chica suggested after a few moments, but a glance at her face told Goldie she _instantly_ realized the problem there as a frown slipped into place.

“Ashley Creol is,” he voiced what they all already knew, glancing around at all of his friends and brother. “We approach them within her sight and the rumour mill will go wild.” Almost as an afterthought, he added, “Plus, they stick together in that corner- and we _definitely_ don’t want to approach them when they have their backs to a corner.”

There was a brief silence; all of them knew he was right. _Back to a corner, in a group, approached by a group that they know in the past has been hostile towards them... fight or flight instincts. They’d react really badly._

“Yeah, we don’t want that,” Foxy agreed with a mirthless snort. Clearly, he understood _exactly_ why that was a bad idea. “Really, I think we should wait for Monday, there’re less conflictin’ factors-”

“Excuse me.”

The soft, mostly-unfamiliar voice cut through their conversation, and Goldie’s eyes widened; his gaze snapped over to Salvage and Fischbach- the latter of whom had been the one who spoke- to find them with their friends, eying them suspiciously.

Goldie’s heart picked up; he felt almost panicked. _Shit, did they hear any of that? There’s two rabbits, they probably did. Fuuuuck..._

Absently, he rubbed his wrist. It calmed him down somewhat and he just watched as Fischbach cleared his throat, clearly about to say something. A denial was right on the tip of Goldie’s tongue when Fischbach simply said, “You’re in my seat.”

It was directed towards Bonnie. His words seemed to land on deaf ears as the rabbit just stared at him blankly for several silent- _creepy-_ seconds, and then Bonnie seemed to come back from whatever land of the dead he had gone to.

“Oh- right,” he muttered, quickly sliding out of the desk and moving to his own one desk over. Chica followed suit, moving one desk over and back from Kain’s desk. “Sorry.”

None of them said anything as Salvage and his friends just peered around oh-so-suspiciously at them- _it doesn’t look like they overheard, thank god-_ before splitting up to take their seats. Goldie resisted the urge to turn around and watch them, instead turning his gaze to the front of the room.

_The warning bell_ did _go off,_ he reasoned with himself, watching their classmates file into the room. He dimly noted that everyone in their “advanced senior science” class was in there as well, but he didn’t think much of it. _And we’d have to stop anyway._

The final bell went off and Mr. Fueller, grinning somewhat, stood up from his desk. Goldie suddenly felt uncomfortable as the instructor’s gaze seemed to crawl over every student, and he had to resist a shudder. He continued to rub his wrist, only this time much more purposefully. “Good morning, everyone!” he greeted cheerfully, but even his friendly demeanor didn’t calm Goldie. A glance towards Freddy showed his brother seemed relaxed, leaning on his desk and watching the instructor. “How’s everyone today?”

Goldie, along with most of the rest of the class, mumbled out a “fine.” Hearing nothing to his left, he glanced towards Fischbach; his expression, usually so neutral, right then looked very unhappy, his brow furrowed and his lips pursed in displeasure as he observed the teacher.

_Maybe I’m not the only one gettin’ the creeps here._

“Good, good,” Mr. Fueller chuckled, his grin widening. Goldie promptly pulled a notebook and and flipped it to an empty page, ignoring the way Freddy looked over towards him. _I do not like this,_ he thought. He couldn’t figure out why he was reacting this way; he hadn’t had this reaction Tuesday, after all. _Not one bit._

“Well then,” Fueller continued, but Goldie refused to look up, “it’s time to take up homework, now isn’t it? Take it out and pass it to the front.” Goldie pulled out the desired worksheet and, waiting for the worksheets from behind him first, passed it up to the person in front of him- _it’s Blanc,_ he was dimly aware- without a single word.

Quite happily, Mr. Fueller began picking the worksheets up when, across the room, there was a burst of obnoxious giggling. A glance in that direction showed Ashley Creol laughing with two soccer players- _Damien Correl and Larry Dawson, I think their names are._ Apparently one of them had said something _really_ funny, as both guys were snickering.

Mr. Fueller stopped dead right in front of the girl sitting in front of Fischbach, turning his eyes and his frown- _he’s even creepier when he frowns!-_ towards the three humans. “Ms. Creol,” he called to the more disruptive student, “would you like to share with the class what is so funny?”

“No, Mr. Fueller,” she immediately answered, putting as much sugary sweet _venom_ into her voice as possible.

“Then keep your laughter to yourself, please.”

_Well at least he ain’t takin’ their shit._

The teacher finished taking the homework up and dropped the stack on his desk, turning to all of them with smirks.

Goldie felt cold.

“Alright then, let’s get started! We’ll start with the easy stuff but I assure you, you will hate this class by the third week.”

_I already do, but not for the reason ya think, Mr. Fueller..._

* * *

The moment Mr. Fueller’s hand landed on his shoulder, five minutes into the worksheet, Goldie understood exactly why he felt that knot curling in his stomach.

With the teacher leaning over him, he was completely unable to pull out his “scratch paper.” He tensed up under the touch, glancing around nervously for any sign of help- Freddy’s eyes were steadfastly on his paper, and certainly no one else was looking towards him.

Mr. Fueller pointed to one of the equations on the page. “You’ve got this backwards, Mr. Fazbear,” he started, his voice low so as not to disturb other students but _I feel very disturbed._ The teacher leaned closer and Goldie tensed up, staring at his page. “Five is X, not seven.”

_I don’t give a fuck just get the fuck away from me._ Dutifully, however, he erased the incorrect equation and its resulting answer to redo it. He was uncomfortably aware of Mr. Fueller’s hand steadily tightening on his shoulder and his breath just barely ghosting across his ear- _humid and incredibly disturbing!-_ as he did so.

“Good,” the instructor chuckled, squeezing his shoulder before letting go and moving on. Relief washed over Goldie and he relaxed, letting out a breath he wasn’t aware that he was holding, and he quickly switched over to the “scratch paper” with his circles.

_To hell with math,_ he decided as he quickly began drawing out the soothing shape, just barely keeping his teacher’s location in mind. That hand continued to linger on his shoulder- in his mind, anyway- but the circles took away the sudden jittery, uncomfortable feeling he had. _To hell with it. Nope nope nope, I cannot deal with that shit._

Even if it was innocent, he mused, it didn’t look or _feel_ innocent. _He had no reason to touch me, no reason to get that close or_ breathe _on me,_ he thought in disgust, his circles becoming slightly lopsided as his movement became less clean and clinical. Goldie hoped he didn’t look as frantic as he suddenly felt. _Stop thinking about it._

Forcefully pushing it out of his mind, he felt himself relaxing again. Soon his motion slowed and his circles actually looked like circles rather than ovals again. He didn’t get back to the worksheet, instead simply watching his circles form and overlap and grow and shrink right up until the bell rang.

Apparently he wasn’t the only one to feel the tension in the air; immediately, every single student (except, he noted, his and Salvage’s group plus Marion Marshal) leapt to their feet and raced for the door. Goldie packed his notebook up, pointedly ignoring the shouting from the hall and how Mr. Fueller ran to the door.

Goldie stood up and headed towards the front of the room, dimly noting that Salvage and his friends were still seated as he passed Blanc, and he paused near the door to wait for the rest of the “Fazcrew” to join him.

He watched as Blanc walked _back_ to Fischbach’s desk where the little group gathered, and Blanc seemed to mutter something much too low for Goldie to hear from there. On the other hand, Foxy glanced over his shoulder towards them... as he continued walking forwards.

“Uh,” he started, watching as Foxy walked straight past him. “Foxy-”

And then Foxy smacked face-first into the doorframe.

Instantly Bonnie began laughing as Foxy stumbled backwards, hands flying up to his face as he yelped out, “Ow!” Goldie couldn’t resist a small grin. “Stop laughin’!” the fox barked towards Bonnie, glaring darkly at him.

“Never!” Bonnie managed between his laughter as he continued towards the door.

It was as if Foxy’s glare had cast some sort of bad-juju curse or whatever; as soon as the rabbit stepped forward, his foot somehow got caught on the desk’s legs and he fell. _Hard._ Goldie just watched, somewhat amused and somewhat concerned, as he flailed his way to the ground, dislodging the desk in the process.

Bonnie blinked up at them. “Ow...” He pushed himself up and, within moments, Freddy was approaching to help him.

“Karma,” Goldie stated matter-of-factly, grinning towards his friend. Bonnie glared over towards the elder bear.

“Oh yeah, like you weren’t laughing, too,” he accused as he accepted Freddy’s offered hand, allowing Freddy to pull him up to his feet. Once steady on his feet, he looped a foot around th desk’s leg and pulled it back into its proper place.

Goldie went to follow as Chica and Foxy headed for the door. “How the hell did you hit the doorframe, Foxy?” Chica snorted, shaking her head at their friend.

“I was distracted,” Foxy claimed as he carefully poked at his nose. Then, deciding that Freddy was undoubtedly the least biased of the lot _(Smart decision, fox),_ Foxy turned to the brown bear with a pathetic, mocking pout. “Is it broken?”

“Ya didn’t hit the wall _that_ hard,” Freddy chuckled, patting the shorter fox on the shoulder consolingly. “Don’t worry, your nose is still on straight.”

“And I thought you were on my side,” Foxy whined jokingly and Goldie snorted. “Oh how you wound me!”

“You deserved it,” Bonnie declared, the smirk clear in his voice alone.

Foxy scoffed, “Oh, please,” as he dodged around another student. “I deserve to go home.”

“Nah,” Goldie chorused right along with his friends, though Chica tacked on, “You don’t get out of your embarrassment that easily.”

“On the bright side,” Goldie started cheerily, “only Salvage and his friends saw you stupidly walk into a wall. So it’s not like it’ll get all around school.” Freddy snorted and headed into the classroom, and Goldie hurried after him, claiming his seat next to Freddy.

Part of him was tempted to bring up what happened in math, but...

“Who all’s in this class?” Freddy suddenly asked, and Goldie glanced over at him, raising a brow. “I didn’t really pay much attention Tuesday.”

_Well I know Salvage and them are in here._

“All I know is Rodriguez and the rest of them are in here,” Bonnie answered before Goldie could, though the expression that crossed Freddy’s face- _no duh, Bonnie, I noticed_ that- made the bear glad that he had said nothing. “They came in late, remember?”

“Yeah, we knew _they_ were in here,” Chica snorted, shaking her head at Bonnie. “Even if we hadn’t been watching them we would have.” Goldie decided not to grace her statement with an answer.

Apparently, no one else did; they all knew she was right, and it didn’t much matter as other students began filing in. Foxy and Chica turned back around, and Goldie barely glanced up as Salvage and company walked past them.

Oddly enough, it seemed like Fischbach was leading Blanc.

He breathed out a short sigh and leaned on his hand, glancing towards his brother. Deciding he needed some sort of distraction, he leaned over. “Freddy,” he called softly, getting his brother’s attention, and despite already knowing the answer, he asked, “Did we have homework for this class?”

“I would’ve told’ja if we had,” Freddy informed him, sounding amused. “And ya should’ve asked me that yesterday,” his brother added, “not while we’re here. If we _did_ have homework, ya wouldn’t have nearly enough time to complete it.”

“You suck, bro,” Goldie pouted, earning a chuckle from the younger.

“We’re twins,” Freddy countered, and with a slight shrug Goldie just turned back to the front, his ears twitching as a voice behind him caught his attention.

It was spoken softly, too softly to carry. In fact, had it been just a week before, Goldie would have never noticed it- or, at least, he wouldn’t have paid it any attention.

_“Hey, Al, did anything seem..._ off _about Mr. Fueller to you?”_

_“He seemed very... ah...”_

_“Creepy? Unnerving?”_

Goldie didn’t know whether to be relieved or worried that he hadn’t been the only one to notice Mr. Fueller’s strange air.

_“Yeah, those are good words. His smile was really... off.”_

“I’m gonna go to the nurse,” Bonnie suddenly said, and Goldie glanced over towards him.

_“He reminds me of Charlie, only more... dangerous.”_

_“I don’t like him.”_

“Why?” Freddy asked, and Goldie watched as Bonnie simply lifted his hand to show Freddy his fingers. There seemed to be blood on the tips, and Goldie frowned; Bonnie was bleeding. “Oh.” Bonnie slid out of his seat and stood up, heading towards the door.

_“Me neither. It’s too much like... how my... in public... and the... you know.”_

Apparently they did know, as none of them prompted the bear- _that was Fischbach, definitely-_ to explain. Goldie frowned as Foxy turned around.

“He went to the nurse,” Freddy answered the unasked question. “If you had been paying attention to us you’d know that.”

“Why?” the fox asked, confused.

_“Yeah. It was kinda chilling. All sorts of, uh, bad feelings.”_

“Turns out when he hit the desk earlier he got cut by some metal,” Chica answered Foxy just as the bell rang. “Didn’t notice.”

_“You guys talking about Mr. Fueller?”_ That was definitely Rodriguez. _“Did any of you notice how his hand lingered_ way _too long on Marion’s shoulder when he was “helping” him solve a problem?”_

Goldie frowned. _He did it to other students too?_

“He should’a noticed,” Foxy muttered, turning back around. Goldie glanced towards the ceiling.

_“He did it to Fazbear, too. The older one.”_

Almost immediately, Freddy’s eyes flickered over to Goldie, his brow furrowing. Goldie was somewhat surprised that Fischbach had noticed when Freddy hadn't.

“Some things just escape our notice,” Goldie mused aloud. “It’s natural.” He glanced over as Freddy turned to look at him. He didn’t want to talk about it, though. Not there, surrounded by people.

Freddy seemed to understand.

_“I didn’t notice.”_

_“Me neither.”_

He wasn’t happy.

* * *

Goldie’s attention was caught by the sound of a yelp, and he turned right in time to watch as Chica’s backerboard landed on Foxy’s back. He watched, his eyes widening slightly, as the plastic cup of ink the fox had been carrying shattered on the floor, sending the thick, staining liquid flying through the air.

Right towards the back corner.

Right towards Salvage.

With a squeal, Rodriguez darted away and Blanc dove for the counter, and Kain quickly hid behind her taller friend. Neither Salvage nor Fischbach moved, both seeming too surprised to react, and the ink splattered right across the floor, their pants, their shirts- and Salvage’s face.

Instinctively, the rabbit closed his eyes- _pleasedon’tgoblind!-_ as the ink hit his face, and Fischbach immediately went to wipe the ink off of his arm as if that would save his fur from getting stained. Salvage, on the other hand, just blinked owlishly, completely unaware of the ink sinking into his fur.

Someone shrieked in laughter, clearly amused, but neither Salvage nor Fischbach reacted. Goldie glanced at his own friends, watching as Freddy pulled Foxy back to his feet, and noted the ill-concealed expressions of horror on each of their faces.

_Thank goodness I’m not alone,_ he thought.

However, as Goldie looked back towards the corner, he found that Salvage was looking over at Fischbach, a small grin lighting up his face. Goldie watched in shock as the rabbit simply said, “Hey, Al, you got a little somethin’ on your shirt.”

Fischbach’s only response was to tap his own cheek, indicating to the rabbit that there was ink on his face. Salvage’s eyes widened and his hand flew up to his cheek, understanding without a single word just what the shorter bear was saying.

Goldie relaxed as he realized that Salvage- and his friends, he noted the grins on the others’ faces- were more amused than angry. But then it came to an abrupt halt.

“Well, _Springtrap,”_ a familiar voice started, and Goldie winced slightly as she emphasized the name. “Now you’ve got something to match that ugly scar, huh?”

_Circles and scars... stop, Creol, you’re crossing a line..._

Goldie didn’t speak up though he really wanted to. He remembered the yearbook, how each picture seemed to have something the last one lacked. Half an ear gone, then add that telltale scar...

No one knew what had happened. Goldie was afraid he finally did.

Rodriguez was at his friend’s side in a moment, as were Blanc and Kain, with a scowl and a glare towards Creol. Salvage was the only one who _didn’t_ look angry, actually, which was almost funny to Goldie since it was Salvage she had insulted.

However, it was Rodriguez Goldie focused on as he opened his mouth- _oh my god he’s gonna actually respond. They_ never _respond like this-_

“Yeah,” Rodriguez began, venom lacing his words as he unintentionally cut Goldie’s thoughts off, “but it would match _so_ much better with your dead black heart.”

The beat of dead silence seemed to only emphasize his words, and Goldie’s eyes widened slightly at the matter-of-fact way he said it. Creol didn’t get a chance to respond as Blanc added, “If she even has one.”

“True,” the shorter rabbit snorted, crossing his arms and staring coldly at Creol. Goldie was sure he had never seen so much hate directed at one person- not even from the rabbit to Bonnie. “Someone like her is nothing but an empty husk, anyway, feeding off of everyone else’s misery.”

It was true, and Goldie’s mind suddenly flashed back to a girl he’d once known- sweet girl, talented too, who’d made some bad decisions. She had once been Creol’s best friend, but that ended early in highschool when Creol... well... Goldie didn’t want to think about it.

The last he’d heard, the poor girl had moved several states away to start over again. Not everyone had that choice, though.

Creol’s voice cut across his memories, causing Goldie to lose his train of thought. “What did you just say, you Mexican fuck?!” she screeched angrily towards Rodriguez, and _then_ things were _really_ tense.

_Oh no._

With that one sentence, Goldie knew as Bonnie growled and Chica muttered, “Excuse me?”, Creol had just dug her own grave. Scowling, Goldie glanced over at Freddy, finding that his brother looked equally displeased with the cheerleader’s words.

Rodriguez seemed relatively unfazed, though Goldie noticed his eyes narrow. “For the record,” he started, “I’m _Spanish,_ not Mexican! Learn geography!”

Admittedly not the best comeback but it certainly displayed how... _intelligent_ Creol was.

“Whatever,” she scoffed dismissively, turning her nose up haughtily. Something about the motion seemed familiar... “You still speak a stupid language.”

Rodriguez snarled and started towards Creol, but then Salvage grabbed his shoulder as if to stop him. Clearly it worked as Rodriguez stopped walking and just glared harder at Creol, and Goldie was glad that he himself was not in the way of that look.

Or any of the other ten or eleven glares being sent Creol’s way...

“Oh please,” the blue rabbit sneered, “at least Spanish makes _sense,_ English is so weird- it’s an amalgamation of different languages.” Rodriguez then proceeded to gasp and lift a hand to his mouth in exaggerated horror, his next words just _dripping_ with sarcasm. “Oops, sorry, I forgot- bimbos don’t know big words like amalgamation!”

Creol’s face darkened angrily and she grit her teeth. “I will-”

“That’s enough, you two!” Mr. Smith suddenly interrupted, and Goldie unintentionally flinched at the not-quite-shouting teacher’s voice. He was _mad._ Clearly Rodriguez realized that, too, as he visibly backed down, his gaze still sharp but no longer threatening. “Act your age, all of you!”

“Sorry, Mr. Smith,” Salvage immediately apologized, a slight waver in his voice as he pulled Rodriguez back towards himself and Fischbach. “Won’t happen again.”

Whatever it was Rodriguez muttered went ignored by Salvage and Mr. Smith, the latter of whom simply said, “Get back to work, all of you.” He then added, “Mr. Salvage, Mr. Fischbach, if you need to go home and change clothes, you’re excused.”

Notably, neither Animal made to leave as Mr. Smith’s gaze turned on the rest of the class, landing on Foxy, specifically. “No more accidents, Mr. Jones,” Mr. Smith warned.

“R-right, got it,” Foxy stuttered, rubbing the back of his head. Goldie couldn’t see his face, but he could tell by the way his friend shifted from foot to foot that he was nervous.

“Ms. Sanchez,” Mr. Smith continued, his gaze turning to Chica, “secure your backerboard properly, and Ms. Creol, _easels are not for leaning!_ You break it, you pay the damages fee, got it? Mr. Fazbear, get that smirk off your face, and Ms. Sanchez, whatever you’re about to say; _don’t.”_

Goldie glanced over at Freddy and then towards Chica, both of whom were frowning. The air around the room was _very_ tense as Mr. Smith turned on his heel and stalked to his desk.

No one dared to disobey, instead quietly returning to their easels (except Foxy, he noted, who scurried off to get paper towels to clean up his mess) to continue the still life.

Goldie already disliked negative space. Now he disliked it even moreso.

* * *

They didn’t get a chance to talk to their science partners that day, unsurprisingly.

Dropping down onto his bed, he groaned, “Today was exhausting. I almost dread tomorrow.” He felt the bed bounce a bit under him and he glanced over towards Bonnie, who had fallen down onto the foot of Goldie’s bed.

“I _do_ dread tomorrow,” Bonnie sighed, leaning back on the bed. Goldie sat up and pulled his legs up, settling his back against the wall to look around at all of his friends. Foxy, who now lacked a hand, and Chica were sitting in his and Freddy’s desk chairs, respectively, and Freddy had promptly laid down on his own bed, his eyes towards the ceiling but his ears perked. “I think during science is really the only chance we’ll have to talk to them one-on-one,” the rabbit continued, sounding as tired as Goldie felt. “And might be the only chance we’ll have to, uh... make an opening.”

_Make an opening?_ Goldie raised a brow.

“What do ya mean by that?” Chica asked, her brow furrowing. “I mean, we have all year, don’t we?”

“At some point they’re bound to close themselves off further,” Freddy mused, glancing over towards them all. “There’ll come a point where it’s simply “too late,” if we haven’t long since passed that.”

_Well I’m pretty sure we_ have _long since passed “too late,” that’s why we’re struggling to figure out what to do._

“We haven’t been sayin’ anything about ‘em this year,” Goldie mentions, shrugging slightly. It was _something._ “And they seem to respond to that by not sayin’ anything about us. Maybe that’ll help in our favour.”

“Yeah, but “this year” hasn’t even been a full week,” Foxy countered, glancing over at him. “Though yeah, it _does_ seem like they more reciprocate rather than respond...”

It was a fair point; they gave what they got.

“Reciprocate?” Goldie decided to take a jab at Foxy, try and ease the tense air lying over them. “I didn’t know you knew such a big word.” Foxy simply rolled his eyes, but it made Goldie feel better so he took it as a small victory.

“They respond equally to what they’re given,” Freddy voiced as he leaned over to his bookbag and pulled a notebook out. Goldie made a face at the thought of homework. “You gave them passing comments that were never said _to_ them, they gave you passing comments that were never said _to_ you. Creol directly confronts Salvage, and they directly responded back, bark to bite.”

_Bark to bite? Well, yeah, I guess it_ did _look like Rodriguez was ‘bout to go over there and snap her neck or somethin’, but I wouldn’t really call that_ bite...

“And revealed that Ashley Creol’s just a racist little bitch,” Chica added with a growl, and Goldie almost winced at the pure amount of anger in her voice. Ashley Creol wasn’t in their good graces to begin with; now she was in their _bad_ graces, it seemed. “I am _so_ done with that stereotypical barbiedoll.”

He considered the pro’s and con’s of just dumping Creol. The human was the head cheerleader, she was pretty _(for a human,_ he added with a silent snort; humans were too fleshy and their hair too stringy for his personal taste) and she was a good cheerleader, even if her grades and personality weren’t top notch. Even if they cut ties with her, she’d still be popular and she’d still be at their table. It would just cause tension.

But...

“We cut Creol out and it gives us more credibility with Salvage and them, too,” he voiced, frowning to himself. Of course it’d give them more credibility- to everyone who wasn’t popular or a popular-follower. “‘Cause frankly, I want nothin’ to do with her at this point.”

“But causes questions with the rest of school,” Freddy pointed out simply. “It would seem strange and suspicious if we just suddenly dumped Creol off for no “real” reason- offhand comments like that...”

_Personally, I don’t find what she said offhand._

“Everyone knows Creol is a tattle,” Foxy reminded them, leaning back in Goldie’s chair. Goldie watched him grab one of the yearbooks off of his desk, set it down on his lap, and flip it open to their class page, his eyes briefly scanning over the pictures. _Will he notice?_ “Amanda Benson, fifth grade- she was Creol’s best friend back then.” _Amanda- that was her name._ “Last I heard of her, Benson dropped outt’a school after Creol went ‘round tellin’ everyone that she got herself pregnant and didn’t know who the father was.”

The elder twin kept his eyes on Foxy, waiting to see if he would notice anything about the page. Foxy glanced up, his eyes meeting Goldie’s, and for a brief moment he looked confused- probably because Goldie was just _staring_ at him...

“Basically,” Chica summarized, “her words earlier today paired with her actions over the last few years are reason enough to cut ties between us and her, and have a valid reason when people ask.”

“Exactly,” Foxy confirmed, tearing his amber eyes from Goldie to look back at the page. His brow furrowed just a little. “If anyone asks, just say she revealed herself to be a racist, and remind ‘em about Benson.”

“And Matthew Smith,” Bonnie suddenly added, and Freddy supplied, “Alyssa Cinch.”

“Anita Jackson.”

“Thomas Andrews.”

Foxy frowned, not at the list of names Bonnie, Freddy, and Chica were throwing out but at the page he was just staring at. Goldie watched him, just waiting for that moment of realization.

“Jason Morrow.”

“Alex Callaway.”

“Deana Greene.”

“Marcus Browne.”

Foxy’s eyes flicked to the top of the page and his brow furrowed, and he looked up at Goldie, confusion and surprise written on his face. Goldie knew he’d noticed it. _I’ll talk to him about it later,_ he promised himself, watching the fox turn back to the page, frown sharpening.

“Jeanne Allen.”

“Darrius Mark.”

“I think that’s all of them?”

“No, there’s also Abriana Shay and Tatiana Freefield.”

Goldie turned his gaze to his other friends, watching as they all came to the agreement that they had finished the extensive list of names- the names that they knew, anyway.

Letting out a soft breath, he leaned back against the wall and just watched, making no motion or attempt to join the conversation. He knew what was going to happen with Creol.

He was more concerned with what was going to happen with Salvage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest they were just supposed to get "bad vibes" from Fueller but then, uh, he turned into a creepy pervert. Well, why not, we need to put the Fazcrew through some semblance of shit, right? It's only fair...
> 
> By the way, I introduced Creol as more than a character to make the Fazcrew look better. She, as well as Jeggs and Walker (both mentioned) and even the "best friend" mentioned at the end of this chapter play really, really big roles later on. I don't mean like main roles or anything, but they spur a series of events... one of them might be redeemed eventually, but I won't say which one who will potentially be redeemed. And I won't tell you what they cause to happen ;)
> 
> In fact, any "OC" you see ever even so much as mentioned in this fic ever at ANY point (Fueller is not an OC; Dominic Fueller is the name I gave Purple Guy before his name was revealed as William Afton) you can expect to be a catalyst of SOMETHING. Whether that something is positive or not, however... heheh...


	9. Out-Matured by a Child, Spring

His alarm went off, its soft beeping just barely managing to rouse him. The first thing that he noticed was that he was warm, and the second thing he noticed was something soft against him.

Blinking awake, Spring peered into the darkness around him. It only took a few moments for him to remember that his friends had stayed the night, and all of them were lying together in a nest of blankets and pillows pulled from his bed. Next to him Plushie was curled up, for once looking at peace, and behind him he could feel someone shifting. He knew it was Blu.

Not wanting to wake the others, he carefully pushed himself up off of the floor and stepped over his brother, reaching over to his bedside table and turning the alarm off. When he glanced back at the others, he saw Alfred had sat up, rubbing an eye as he sleepily looked up towards Spring.

Neither said a word, not wanting to disturb their friends. Quietly and carefully, Alfred stood up to his feet and followed Spring to the door. Neither bothered to get changed yet; it was early and there was no need to leave too early, since they didn’t need to meet up at Chii’s house.

Alfred muttered something about the bathroom and headed to the stairs. Spring wasn’t surprised; Alfred didn’t like using his and had said more than once that he felt awkward stepping into Plushie’s bathroom, what with the plastic steps in front of the sink and the child-friendly items and bright colours on the walls and floor and such...

Spring couldn’t blame him for either.

Remembering he no longer had his medicine, he felt dread seep into his gut. _Another day. I still need to take the bottle to the drugstore, maybe they’ll have it ready by Saturday._

Nodding to himself, he continued to his own bathroom to take care of morning business, and then he headed downstairs and to the kitchen, deciding that today was the perfect day to make breakfast for not just himself and Plushie but for his friends, too.

_At least not having my medicine means I don’t have to worry about throwing up later._

He quickly pushed the thought aside and pushed the door to the kitchen open, letting it fall shut silently. Alfred was sitting at the counter, a glass of water in hand and his gaze on the window.

“Good morning, Alfred,” Spring greeted with a tired smile, and the bear looked over to him and returned it.

“Mornin’, Spring,” he mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep.

“I was gonna make some breakfast,” Spring told him, heading to an open cabinet and plucking his favourite cup- dark green with gold swirling designs on it- out of its spot. “Wanna help?”

“What were you plannin'?” Alfred asked, watching him fill his cup with water.

“Pancakes.”

“Mm?” And there went Alfred’s speech. That was okay, though. Spring knew what he was asking.

“No, not just pancakes,” he laughed softly, turning to look at his friend and leaning against the fridge. “I was thinking strawberry for Blu and Mangle, chocolate for Plushie and me, and whatever type you and Chii would like.”

Of course he knew already _exactly_ what kind Alfred would choose, and the bear _knew_ he knew it, so he simply raised a brow at Spring and brought his cup to his lips, gingerly sipping at his water. Spring snorted.

“Alright, blueberry for you and Chii.”

Alfred gave a short nod and set his glass down. “Who does what?”

“Well I suppose I’ll do the chocolate,” Spring started, “and I could do blueberry too, but if I’m doing chocolate I shouldn’t do strawberry. Don’t wanna accidentally mix them, y’know?” Alfred simply nodded in understanding.

“Mm, you boys plannin' on cookin' without me?”

Blinking, both Spring and Alfred turned to the kitchen door to find Chii standing there, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed and a small smirk on her face.

“Hey, Chii,” Spring chuckled. “Right in time to help with breakfast. We didn’t wake you, did we?”

“No,” Chii assured, pushing away from the doorframe and walking over to them. “Mangle kicked me.”

Alfred snorted at that and Spring couldn’t help but smile. “Not hard, I hope.”

“It was just the leg, but still. I heard something about blueberries and chocolate and strawberry?”

“Pancakes,” Alfred supplied, standing up from the stool by the counter.

“Ooh!” Chii clapped and smiled. “Fun! I’ll do the strawberry~”

“Alright then,” Spring laughed a bit, setting his own cup down and heading over to the cabinet where he kept the skillets. “You know where everything is.”

For the first time in a while, everything was alright.

* * *

He paused when he reached the classroom door, his eyes landing on the only students in the room in surprise. The Fazcrew were _never_ the first to class- not classes like math, anyway- and they certainly never _whispered_ to each other, leaning in as if discussing something super secret.

Before he could think much on it, however, he felt one of his friends run into him, sending him stumbling forwards. He managed to catch himself and glanced back at Mangle, who was rubbing their muzzle. Then their eyes landed on the group and a scowl formed on their face.

Spring let out a silent sigh and headed towards the Fazcrew. They were whispering too quietly for him to really hear what they were saying from that distance, but the closer they got the more he caught.

“-ant that,” Jones was saying. Spring glanced around at the others, then shared a look with Alfred. “Really, I think we should wait for Monday, there’re less conflictin’ factors-”

“Excuse me,” Alfred interrupted, and immediately the Fazcrew fell silent, snapping to attention.

 _If you can’t watch your surroundings, don’t have private conversations in the middle of a classroom,_ Spring mused silently, highly unimpressed.

“Huh?” the fox questioned, clearly shocked by their “sudden” appearance. A glance around the group showed Spring that only the younger Fazbear brother was unsurprised. Clearly he had noticed them enter. _He must be the observant one. That means we have to be careful around him._

Alfred cleared his throat and Spring’s ear twitched. “You’re in my seat.” It was directed towards Henderson, who just stared at them mutely for several seconds. Then Alfred’s words seemed to register.

Oddly enough, he seemed to calm down.

“Oh- right,” he started, slipping out of the desk and moving over to his own. “Sorry.” Sanchez followed suit, standing up from Chii’s desk and heading back to hers.

Spring watched them suspiciously- all of them were watching them, either directly or from the corner of their eye. Spring didn’t like it.

However, there was nothing he could say or do, so he started towards the back with Blu and the others all went to take their own seats. Even though they were all basically in a semi-circle (around the majority of the Fazcrew, he noted somewhat bitterly) they were separated; they couldn’t talk as a group or anything like that.

_Damn seating charts. At least we don’t have any in English..._

Other students filed in but Spring didn’t bother to pay them any mind, leaning over to Blu. The younger rabbit’s ear perked and Spring whispered, “Something isn’t right here.”

Blu nodded in agreement and leaned closer to him as well, barely glancing behind him as a brown-haired human sat down, raising his immaculately-trimmed brows at them. “I kinda gathered that already, Spring. Do you think it was about us?”

“I don’t know,” Spring admitted. “I didn’t catch anything... informative, or any red flags in the snatch of conversation I _did_ catch.”

The bell rang and both rabbits winced before sitting up straight again, looking towards the front of the room as Mr. Fueller stood up, a grin on his face.

“Good morning, everyone!” he greeted _much_ too energetically, stopping at the front of the room and looking around at them all. “How’s everyone today?”

A mix of “fine” and “okay” was muttered through the room, but neither Spring nor Blu said anything.

“Good, good,” Mr. Fueller chuckled, grinning slightly at the students. It sent a chill up Spring’s spine and he glanced over at Blu, but Blu was idly twirling his pencil with his fingers; if he felt a similar chill, he said nothing. “Well then, it’s time to take up homework, now isn’t it? Take it out and pass it to the front.”

Mechanically, Spring pulled the desired worksheet out and, after taking the student behind him’s (a glance at his packet showed it was William Yaw, a name that he wasn’t familiar with), passed it forward to Chii. Next to him, Blu huffed softly and Spring glanced over at him as he passed the packets forward with one hand, the other brushing a... piece of pencil? out of his fur.

Spring’s eyes flicked to the guy behind Blu and frowned. Really looking at the human, Spring recognized him; it was Tom Walker, someone who _thought_ he was all that and took joy out of picking on smaller and/or weaker kids.

Tom Walker had his own little gang separate from both populars and outcasts. Among both groups, his group was known as “corrupt pets.”

Because they were teachers’ pets.

They used it to their advantage, too; things that would get anyone else suspended got them put into detention, and things that would get anyone else a phone-call home simply earned them a pat on the wrist. Not even a slap- a _pat._

Walker flicked another piece of his number-two pencil at Blu, this one hitting the blue rabbit’s ear.

A laugh from the other side of the room, however, got everyone’s attention, and Spring’s eyes snapped over to- _Oh no, it’s Ashley Creol._ Spring didn’t like many people in the school, but Ashley Creol was, as far as he was concerned, the worst of the lot. Worse than the Fazcrew, even. She left Spring and his friends well-enough alone, though; no, she targeted her own “friends,” ruining reputations as often as she could. Every year it seemed that there were less and less “popular” people because of her.

Spring had no respect whatsoever for anyone who would target their own friends like that. _At least the Fazcrew are loyal to each other._

“Ms. Creol, would you like to share with the class what is so funny?” Mr. Fueller asked, raising a brow at the girl. Clearly he did not appreciate the disruption.

“No, Mr. Fueller,” was the innocent response. Spring couldn’t help but feel some satisfaction as Mr. Fueller didn’t look too taken in with the innocent act. In fact, he looked highly unimpressed.

“Then keep your laughter to yourself, please.” Then the teacher had moved on, collecting more homework, and a low growl from Spring’s right got his attention. Glancing over, he found Walker boredly poking Blu’s shoulder.

Spring felt something inside his stomach twist and he gripped his pencil too tight. For some reason, just the sight of the little snitch annoying his friend made him feel very... _angry._

“Alright then, let’s get started!”

In fact, at that moment, the thought of punching Tom Walker seemed very appealing- _Wait, what am I thinking?!_

Quickly, he forced his gaze back to the front where Mr. Fueller was writing something out on the board.

_I seriously need to get that refill._

_Soon._

* * *

Spring stared at the picture in his phone, frowning slightly. He had just received the image from his sister in Beachton, and he did _not_ like what he was seeing. She was wearing a swimsuit- golden-white, to compliment her pale eyes- and it was a lot showier than what she usually wore, but what Spring didn’t like was the bottle in her left hand and the arm looped around her waist. She was grinning at the camera, holding the bottle up like she was toasting something, and leaning against some guy Spring didn’t know.

She’d never mentioned that she had a boyfriend. In fact, the last Spring heard from her, she’d rejected some guy who wanted her to act more “feminine” or whatever.

Frowning, he sent back a text response; _‘Aren’t you supposed to be in class right now? Why are you on the beach?’_ He hit _send_ and dropped the phone down on his desk, sighing and leaning on his hand.

 _Every month that passes, she becomes more and more of a stranger,_ he said silently to himself, watching his phone and waiting for a response he knew might not come at all. _What happened? I know freedom and adulthood means she can do what she wants now, but does she have to do_ this _to herself? She’s less and less like herself every time I hear from her..._

The thought scared him. Growing up, Mimi and Mrs. Marks had been his only companions, aside from his friends and somewhat-estranged father. He didn’t like the distance forming between himself and his sister, but he didn’t know how to shorten that distance. She was a hundred miles away, and she rarely checked her phone or email.

_She’s just trying to find herself._

“Henderson, you’re bleeding.”

Blu’s voice roused Spring from his thoughts and he glanced over at the rabbit who was watching Henderson. That was odd, to say the least; it was usually the other way around, at least in the last few days...

Blinking, the purple rabbit in question looked at his arm, frowning as, apparently, he saw what Blu was talking about. “Oh. That’s why it still hurts.”

Spring decided to tune out, turning to look at Alfred. If anything important happened, Blu would get his attention.

Deciding it was better to _not_ think about his sister, he thought back to math and frowned, remembering that strange chill up his spine as Mr. Fueller smiled.

“Hey Al,” he started quietly, getting his friend’s attention, “did anything seem... _off_ about Mr. Fueller to you?”

Alfred looked back at him, frowning slightly as he nodded a confirmation. “He seemed very...” he started, then trailed off. “Ah...”

“Creepy?” Chii supplied from behind Spring. “Unnerving?”

“Yeah, those are good words,” Spring muttered as Alfred nodded. “His smile was really... off.”

“He reminds me of Charlie,” Chii told them softly, her voice dropping low. “Only more... dangerous.”

“I don’t like him,” Spring agreed, leaning on his hand.

“Me neither,” Alfred agreed, sighing softly and shaking his head. “It’s too much like... how my... in public... and the... you know.”

Spring _did_ know. Chii, Mangle, and Blu undoubtedly knew even better than he himself did. “Yeah,” he agreed, allowing his eyes to trail over the rest of the class. The Fazcrew weren’t watching them- and, to Spring’s relief, their rabbit wasn’t present anymore- but that didn’t mean they weren’t possibly _listening._ However, they seemed to be having their own conversation, so that eased Spring’s worries a bit. “It was kinda chilling,” he decided to say, looking back at Alfred. “All sorts of, uh, bad feelings.”

“You guys talking about Mr. Fueller?” Blu asked, prompting Spring to glance over at him. Alfred nodded a confirmation. “Did any of you notice how his hand lingered _way_ too long on Marion’s shoulder when he was “helping” him solve a problem?”

“He did it to Fazbear, too,” Alfred informed them quietly. “The older one.”

“I didn’t notice,” Spring mumbled, anxiously picking his pencil up.

“Me neither,” Chii admitted, frowning. “Thank goodness we’re all good at math.”

“Speak for yourself, I don’t know what any of that stuff means,” Blu sighed, glancing over towards Mangle. “He seemed to ignore Mangle and me, though.”

Upon hearing their name, Mangle looked over at them, blinking out of their reverie. “Huh?”

“Mr. Fueller.”

“Oh yeah, he actually sneered at me. I don’t think he likes immigrants.”

“I’m not an immigrant, though,” Blu muttered, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, but your parents are,” Mangle countered. “And your name is _very_ Spanish, so-”

“Excuse me, you five,” the teacher, Mrs. Mittel, tutted from her place at the front of the room, and their attention snapped forward. “Class has begun.”

“Sorry!” Chii immediately responded, flushing in embarrassment, and Spring just wanted to disappear.

_How did I not notice the bell rang?_

“Thank you,” Mrs. Mittel hummed, turning back to the board. “As I was saying, I’ve only managed to grade a few classworth’s of essays and, unfortunately, your class is not complete yet, so you’ll get those back on Tuesday...”

Spring shared a look with Blu before leaning on his hand, watching the human walk around as she spoke, writing random things down like dates. She mentioned a big group project near the end of the semester, but assured them they would go over that later. If it was anything like “big group projects” in the past, Spring hoped they could at least select their own partners.

Then, at last she turned to face the class, holding the textbook up and flipping to a page.

“Now if everyone will turn to page fourteen, we will begin...”

* * *

Art was a... disastrous affair, at best.

Everything _would_ have been fine if Jones hadn’t within the first five minutes of class managed to trip over Sanchez’s easel, sending himself, his supplies, and Sanchez’s improperly-secured backerboard and work flying. The board landed on Jones’ back, and as he fell he lost his grip on his supplies.

Unfortunately, he was holding _ink._ And, even _more_ unfortunately, it flew in _their_ direction, the cup it was in shattering upon impact and sending ink flying everywhere.

With a yelp, Blu skittered away and Chii practically _dove_ behind Spring, neither wanting to get ink on their clothes, and Mangle darted out of the line of fire, nearly jumping up on the counter to avoid getting hit by the staining liquid.

Neither Spring nor Alfred moved fast enough, thus earning both of them ink-splotched shirts and pants. Blinking owlishly, Spring looked down at his faded jeans and just _watched_ the ink set in, dimly aware that he would never get it out of the demin. Beside him, Alfred made a displeased sound as he tried to wipe ink off of his arm before it could stain his fur.

There was a shrill, annoying laugh somewhere in the room, but Spring paid it no mind, simply looking at Alfred with a confused expression. Alfred looked back at him and simply shrugged, his blue T-shirt now sporting a noticeable whip of black ink across the front. Spring knew he looked similar.

“Oh shit,” Spring heard Jones grunt as he stood up with one of the Fazbears’ help, but he didn’t pay the fox any mind, instead just smirking good-naturedly at his friend.

“Hey Al, you got a little somethin’ on your shirt,” he jokingly informed the bear, and Alfred snorted before pointing to his own cheek. Spring’s eyes immediately widened and he reached up, touching the liquid on his face. _Oh come on, seriously?!_

“Well, _Springtrap,”_ someone called, and Spring’s gaze snapped towards Ashley Creol, who was leaning on her easel and smirking. “Now you’ve got something to match that ugly scar, huh?”

Spring shared a look with his friends as Mangle, Chii, and Blu stepped back over, each of them frowning and glaring towards Creol.

“Yeah,” Blu snarked, “but it would match _so_ much better with your dead black heart.”

_Oh no, Blu, please don’t respond to her- she’s just looking for a rise..._

“If she even has one,” Mangle snorted, flicking their tail in agitation.

“True,” Blu conceded, crossing his arms. “Someone like her is nothing but an empty husk, anyway, feeding off of everyone else’s misery.”

Creol’s eyes flashed and she straightened up. Spring’s eyes flickered over to the fox who, currently, looked like a deer in the headlights, as if he had no idea what to do. “What did you just say, you Mexican fuck?!”

Spring’s ears twitched and he looked back at Creol, his eyes widening very slightly. _Oh no. No you did not._

 _You did not just bring race into this and then get it_ wrong, _did you?_

“For the record,” Blu started, scowling at the human, “I’m _Spanish,_ not Mexican! Learn geography!”

“Whatever,” Creol scoffed, observing her nails with a haughty lift of her head. It reminded Spring of his mother. “You still speak a stupid language, anyway.”

Blu snarled and started forwards, but Spring quickly caught his shoulder. “Oh please,” Blu huffed, “at least Spanish makes _sense,_ English is so weird- it’s an amalgamation of different languages.” Blu then pretended to gasp, covering his mouth in mock-shame, and said with completely false apology, “Oops, sorry, I forgot- bimbos don’t know big words like amalgamation!”

Creol’s face darkened further and she scowled, and Spring tried so hard to not feel as amused as he did. Creol snarled, “I will-”

“That’s enough, you two!” Mr. Smith intervened, switching a glare between both students. “Act your age, all of you!”

“Sorry, Mr. Smith,” Spring started, pulling the angry rabbit back. “Won’t happen again.”

“We’ll see about that,” Blu muttered, but he went ignored by both Spring and the teacher.

“Get back to work, all of you,” Mr. Smith commanded, and Spring winced at the anger in his tone. “Mr. Salvage, Mr. Fischbach, if you need to go home and change clothes, you’re excused.” Then he turned watch all of the students, eyes critical as they landed on Jones. “No more accidents, Mr. Jones.”

“R-right,” Jones muttered, rubbing his head. “Got it.”

“Ms. Sanchez, secure your backerboard properly, and Ms. Creol, _easels are not for leaning!_ You break it, you pay the damages fee, got it? Mr. Fazbear, get that smirk off your face, and Ms. Sanchez, whatever you’re about to say; _don’t.”_

 _Geez he’s mad,_ Spring noted, his ears flattening and sharing a worried look with Alfred. _He’s never blown up like this, even with similar accidents..._

_Something must have happened._

Slowly, everyone began getting back to work and Mr. Smith returned to his desk, doing whatever it was he did while they worked. Jones grabbed a wad of paper towels from the supply room and began cleaning up the mess he’d made.

 _“For the record, Creol,”_ Spring heard Sanchez mutter to the human, _“Spanish is my first language. And I was_ born _in Mexico.”_

Pausing, he shared a look with Blu. For just a moment, it sounded like a defense...

 _That’s because it is,_ he told himself, turning his eyes back to the still life they were sketching. They were supposed to be filling the negative space with ink, which was why Jones had it in the first place. _She’s defending her language and heritage._ He glanced over at the chicken in question, noting that she looked pretty mad. The rest of the Fazcrew... didn’t look much happier.

Jones stood up after getting the ink up off of the floor, though noticeably it had left dark marks on the tiles that wouldn’t come up until it was properly mopped and maybe even scrubbed. He muttered an apology to them that almost went unheard before heading over to his dropped supplies, sending a rather venomous look at Creol.

Spring raised a brow at that, then turned back to the still life to continue sketching. He could understand, of course. In her attempt to insult Blu, Creol had insulted one of Jones’ best friends. And, Spring knew, if the Fazcrew were as close as Spring himself and his friends were, that meant she had just insulted _all_ of them.

_I think Creol may have just made herself some new enemies with that single comment..._

* * *

“Come on, Plush, before we head home I need to drop something off.”

The little golden rabbit looked at him as he unbuckled him from the carseat, tilting his head curiously. “What is it?”

Spring gave the kit a strained smile and picked him up out of the car. “It’s nothing you need to be concerned about,” he assured, closing the car door and heading into the drugstore. Spring would tell him one day, but right then he knew the kit wouldn’t understand. “I had a bad day and it reminded me of something I needed to do.”

The kit frowned as Spring approached the counter, pulling the small orange bottle out of his pocket. “Your pills?” he asked, looking up at his brother. Spring just forced another smile.

“Quick as a whip,” he commented, stopping in front of the counter and waiting for the pharmacist to finish on the phone. “I accidentally dropped them the other day.”

Plushie pouted at him and said, “You should’a fixed it then.”

“I should’ve, yeah,” Spring agreed absently. The pharmacist hung up the phone and started towards him.

“Mr. Salvage,” the pharmacist greeted kindly, albeit somewhat confused. “Didn’t expect to see you for a few more weeks.”

He smiled sheepishly and held the bottle up. “Unfortunately there was an accident,” he explained, setting the bottle down. “So... yeah.”

The pharmacist nodded in understanding and took the bottle. “Well, you know we’ll have it done by Saturday, maybe even sooner,” he assured the rabbit. “Maybe even later today. Keep an eye on your phone, we may give you a ring.”

“My phone’s always on,” he replied with a soft, nervous laugh. “Have a good day,” he added as he turned to leave, barely catching the returned farewell. He glanced down at Plushie, who was looking around. “Hey, little kit,” he started, getting his brother’s attention, “want a candy bar?”

“Yes!” Plushie immediately answered, wiggling in Spring’s arm. Spring quickly had to grab him with his free arm, not wanting to risk dropping him.

“Woah, careful, kit,” he laughed, pausing by the candy rack. “What do ya want?”

“Kit-kat!”

“Really?” he asked teasingly, reaching out to grab the desired candy. “I’m more partial to twix, myself.”

“Bleh,” the kit made a face, shaking his head.

“What? It’s just a kit-kat with caramel,” he laughed, pausing to grab them both drinks- apple juice for the kit and strawberry fanta for himself. “You like caramel.”

“But I don’t like twix,” Plushie declared matter-of-factly, shaking his head.

“Why not?”

“Just don’t.”

“Alright then,” he chuckled, going over to the checkout counter and setting all four items down. “Whatever you say, kit.”

There was a short, unusual silence, and Spring glanced over at Plushie, who was staring intently at the cashier. Looking at the cashier, Spring noticed nothing out of the ordinary. She seemed a bit creeped out, though.

“Plushie, don’t stare at people,” he murmured to the small rabbit, gently bouncing him to get his attention. “It’s rude.”

“Sorry,” the kit immediately apologized.

“Your total is $7.04,” the cashier told him, and he pulled a ten from his pocket. He always made it a habit to carry around a _little_ pocket money, just for little “outings” such as this where using his card just seemed very... unnecessary. He watched the cashier pull out the change, handing it over to him with a simple, “$2.96 is your change.”

“Thank you,” he responded, taking the money and slipping it back into his pocket. Then he picked up the bag and headed towards the door.

“Can I hold it?” Plushie asked, looking at Spring with puppy-dog eyes.

“Nope,” Spring laughed, shaking his head. “You can get it when we get home. You know how I feel about drinking and eating in the car. We’re all of five minutes from home, you can wait.”

The rabbit kit pouted up at him but made no argument, knowing that Spring wouldn’t change his mind. Reaching the car, Spring opened the back door and set Plushie into his seat, setting the bag on the passenger seat in front. Quickly he snapped the belts into place, then shut the door and went around front.

It was a beautiful day, he noted- blue skies, warm sunshine, and not a cloud in sight. One would never tell that it had been pouring rain all through the night.

He smiled softly before slipping into the driver’s seat, buckling his seatbelt and starting the ignition. He felt almost normal.

Of course, he knew, _feeling_ and _being_ were two completely different things, and a glance in the rearview mirror at the little rabbit kit reminded him that his life was anything but normal.

 _I should get home and do my homework,_ he decided, a bit forlornly, and put the malibu in drive. “Got any homework, kit?” he asked conversationally.

“A little,” Plushie admitted, though he sounded distracted as he did. “Just numbers, though.”

“Math?”

“No. Just numbers.”

It sounded a bit... strange to Spring, but he chose not to question his brother’s logic. “Think you’ll need any help?”

“No, I think I know it. Mr. Shaf helped me after school,” Plushie told him. “I like Mr. Shaf. He’s nice.”

“He is,” Spring agreed, unable to deny it. The bear had been nothing but kind to both himself and Plushie, though he seemed unnecessarily concerned...

“Did you know he has kids my age?”

“I didn’t, no.”

“He said they’re triplets. What does that mean?”

Spring glanced into the rearview mirror again, frowning as he considered how to explain the concept of _twins_ to a six year old. “It means that they were born together,” he started slowly, switching his eyes back to the road. “At the same time. Well- kinda at the same time. It’s... hard to explain when you don’t know biology.”

“Why?” the kit questioned curiously.

“Because it’s a lot deeper than just... what I’ve said. There’s a lot of technicalities,” he explained, then mentally chastised himself. “That is, there’s a lot of factors involved.” He hesitated for a moment before adding, “I just want you to keep in mind that even twins and triplets and more are individuals.”

“What d’ya mean?”

“I mean, even if two people look exactly alike or act alike, they’re still their own person,” he told the kit, pausing to open the front gate. “If you ever happen to meet Mr. Shaf’s kids, just keep that in mind, okay?”

“Okay...”

Parking the car out in front of the house, Spring grabbed the bag and slid out of the front seat, then rounded around to pick Plushie up out of his seat.

“Do you know any triplets, Spring?” the kit asked as Spring picked him up and closed the door. Spring paused, thinking of the Fazbears, and frowned to himself.

“Not personally,” he answered, heading towards the front door. “But there’s a pair of twins at my school. They’re fraternal, though.”

“Frat- ter...?”

“It means they look no more alike than two regular siblings do,” he told the kit simply, opening the door and setting him down on the tile. “Actually, you and I look more alike than those two do.”

Plushie giggled at that. They both knew very well that Plushie looked like a “miniature Spring,” as Spring’s friends sometimes called him. “Are they nice?”

 _That_ caused Spring to hesitate and he closed the door behind him. “I’ve never spoken to them,” he admitted softly, “so I wouldn’t know. But from what I’ve heard, they are.”

_When they’re not busy hating our guts or snooping into our business, anyway._

Plushie tilted his head slightly. “Maybe you should talk to them.”

“I think not,” Spring deadpanned with absolutely no hesitance. Plushie blinked up at him, and immediately Spring attempted to backpedal. “Ah... well, we have two completely different social groups,” he told the kit awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head. He didn’t exactly want to teach his brother intolerance...

“So?” The kit pouted up at him and crossed his arms, stomping his foot on the tile. It didn’t make much sound even in the large, echoing room, and even though it was an attitude Spring definitely didn’t encourage it was downright adorable on the little rabbit. Of course, he knew he couldn't allow the kit to go on thinking his little stubborn display was appropriate... “You told me that it’s our diffrenceses that make us all spesal. Being diffence is okay. You said so!”

Spring was silent for a few moments, somewhat surprised at Plushie’s words. He had told the kit that when he first started school a year ago- when he was afraid that he would be too “unlike” his classmates. Too different. He hadn’t actually expected Plushie to remember.

“I did say that,” he agreed softly, watching the kit smile in satisfaction.

“Then it’s okay!” the kit stated with finality. “You should talk to them. Maybe they’re really nice!” And then he ran off into the living room, leaving Spring alone by the front door. All Spring could do was watch his brother disappear through the doorway, greeting the best and only friends Spring had ever had- the only friends he had ever even attempted to make.

The worst part was that he knew what the kit was unintentionally saying. “ _You can’t judge someone you don’t even know.”_

He glanced down at the bag in his hand. Even worse was the fact that he knew Plushie was right.

 _Was I just..._ out-matured _by a six year old?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A common side-effect of just suddenly stopping the kind of medicine Spring is taking is heightened aggression, and it can show up within 24-48 hours. 
> 
> Also hooray for almost-eighteen year olds being out-matured by six year olds!  
> And yep, the first mention of Shaf's children.


End file.
